The Colour of Blood
by iceandfire105
Summary: She's fighting for it all-her land, her life, and and a solid grip on her sanity. Desperate for vengeance, she finds herself caught in matters of circumstance that question morality itself–but she knows what she truly seeks is far out of reach, brutally taken from her by the Banshee Queen. Yet death itself is not going to stop her: Kathryn Weiss is back, and there's hell to pay.
1. Return

**Boom, baby! I'm back! And I know I said I wouldn't write a sequel, but here I am. Actually thought of a really rough plot idea about a month back, but over the last few days I've really been pulling it together. Sorry. I couldn't resist. I hated the way I ended the last story, because it seemed so . . . un-Kathryn, if you know what I mean.**

 **Yeah, if you hadn't gathered, this story is a sequel to Last Chance At Humanity. You don't have to read it first, since it's the worgen starting experience, but I strongly advise you do, as it covers a lot of the character development. Just a suggestion.**

 **And, finally, here's a warning in advance. My lore will be rusty. I will, however, be doing quite a bit of research. At the moment, I am not up to date at _all,_ and for all I know, I could accidently start puttering on about stuff that happened in Wrath of the Lich King or Burning Crusade; mainly because BC is my strongest area of knowledge. I'm sorry. But hey, if anyone would like to help me with said lore, that would be really nice. You'd get major brownie points.**

 **~Ice.**

* * *

 _ **1 – Return**_

 **Kathryn**

'Been here ten minutes and I hate it already,' Kathryn muttered, looking around as she walked. 'Little to no stealing potential . . . and it's too buggering _clean_. By the Light . . .'

Darnassus definitely hadn't turned her soft.

A handful of older mothers that passed by turned to glare at her, and her slight use of profanity around small children, her own included. Kathryn grinned impishly at them, before hitching Liam up on her hip and continuing on.

She honestly didn't care if Liam learned to swear before he could even walk properly, since she tossed around curses left and right. It might not be socially acceptable, and she would be frowned upon as a mother, but hey, there were more important things to worry about.

Like a freaking _war_ , for example.

Liam grabbed a lock of hair in his little fist and yanked, causing her to wince slightly. He giggled at her expression, and she prodded him in the stomach playfully.

'Bloody demon child, you are,' she told him in mock annoyance, and he laughed. 'Don't know where you came from, because you aren't mine.'

He giggled again, and said, 'Dada.'

Kathryn immediately froze, letting out a long, slow exhale as she began her routine of shoving hopes, fears and memories into the back of her mind. Finally, she straightened again and nodded, before walking on in silence.

Liam seemed to realise that he had done something wrong, and his little face fell. Immediately regretting upsetting the poor child, Kathryn hugged him and ruffled his hair, putting a large and overly false smile on her face.

'Come on,' she told him. 'Let's see what we can find today, huh?'

Once again happy, Liam fully believed her cheeriness, and together they meandered their way through Stormwind as the sun rose further overhead.

* * *

Half an hour later, she still hated it. It just felt . . . _different_ to Gilneas. It lacked any aspects that made Kathryn want to call the place home.

Liam clearly didn't care. He looked around with eyes the size of saucers, and tried to steal anything he could off passing carts. Kathryn grinned. Okay, sometimes he was just like her.

She normally would have been a little unnerved to see all of the guards walking around the place, but since she had seen worse things in life, the mere prospect of being caught trying to nick a loaf of bread was laughable. Besides, she had social connections, and technically, a place to be. It wasn't like they could toss her in prison.

Well, they probably could, but she wasn't going to dwell on that.

She paused, frowned scrutinisingly at her surroundings, and plopped down on a bench. Damn these huge, unfamiliar cities. She was lost.

Already.

She chewed her lip as she watched civilians pass by, going about their daily business, and looked back at Liam. After a few seconds of thinking, she came to a quick decision and got back up, her head spinning a little at the sudden movement, as she hadn't eaten all day.

'Um, excuse me,' she called, stopping a young woman as she neared. She made sure Liam was in clear view, and flashed her one of those I'm-an-adorable-sort-of-teenage-mother-look-how-cute-my-kid-is-please-help-me sort of grins. 'You wouldn't happen to know where Stormwind Keep is, would you? I'm kind of new here.'

Naturally, it worked. The woman cooed at the sight of Liam, who was babbling happily like small children do, before coming closer to answer.

'You from Gilneas?' she asked, cocking her head to the side. Kathryn pulled a funny face, then nodded. The woman cracked a grin. 'Figured. The accent sort of gave it away. The Keep's down that way -' She pointed further down the street, trying to look around the numerous clusters of people. '-and turn left. Should be somewhere around there. You can't miss it.'

Kathryn beamed. 'Thanks.'

'Have you got a meeting with the king?' she asked, now looking a little interested. 'You must be important.'

Kathryn paused, then gave a slight, offhand shrug. 'Well, yeah. I suppose I do, from an angle.'

 _A_ king, not _the_ king.

She nodded. 'Alright then. I won't be keeping you.' She smiled. 'Have a nice day.'

'You too.' Kathryn trailed off a little as she turned and hurried off as the woman instructed. Sure enough, the colossal greatness of the Keep loomed in front of her, and she moseyed on, walking past the guards and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. She didn't really notice much of the scenery as she started the long slog up its numerous steps (child in tow, mind you), since she was more bent on where she was heading as opposed to what it looked like.

Another set of guards stopped her when she finally reached the door, and Kathryn, not feeling particularly patient at the moment, handed them a square of parchment she had shoved in her pocket earlier.

'Kathryn Weiss,' she said shortly. 'I've got an appointment with the king of Gilneas.'

One of them opened the note and scanned over it, before giving a small nod. 'His Majesty Varian Wrynn is currently in a meeting, and King Greymane is with him. I shall see if he can be excused. Wait here.'

Kathryn nodded and leaned against the doorframe, depositing Liam at her feet, as her arms were starting to get sore.

Here she was. After a good couple months of travelling, she was finally returning to her "family". She supposed it was about time that she stayed somewhere for more than a few weeks. Stayed somewhere for good. After all, Liam deserved better. Most other children weren't brought up without a definite home just because their mother had wanderlust. They had a house, a family, other siblings to play with, and a father to love them. Liam didn't have that. He just had her.

And Kathryn wasn't sure that was the best thing.

Actually, that wasn't entirely true. When they were in Darnassus for a while, he had his grandparents. But that wasn't all the time. In Teldrassil, Kathryn always wanted to move around, so she had carted the poor child from pillar to post, until they had explored every inch of the giant tree at least twice. Then, when he was almost a year old, she had finally done it.

She had taken him to Gilneas.

They were only there for about half an hour, because it was too dangerous, but all the same, it had fuelled Kathryn's desire to travel. So they didn't go straight back to Stormwind. Instead, they slowly crossed the land either on foot or by wagon, spending the nights in taverns or sleeping on the ground, getting there the long way.

And they had finally managed it.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the towering figure of Genn Greymane appearing in the doorway. Kathryn's head snapped up, and she hastily bobbed into a curtsy, grabbing Liam by the wrist and tugging him back in her direction.

'Your Majesty.'

'That's enough, Kathryn.' Greymane's voice was gruff, as it usually was, but it was laced with endearment. 'Come inside.'

So she did. She followed him through the large, stone corridors of the Keep, until he went through a wooden door. Once inside, he drew her into a fatherly hug. 'It's good to see you again.'

'You too.'

He pulled away, and extended his enormous hand to Liam, who was looking at his grandfather with an expression of slight awe. He seemed to vaguely recognise him, but not enough to realise immediately.

'And you, boy. Have you been good for your mother?'

Liam nodded his head awkwardly, and Genn laughed. Now realising that it was okay to relax, Liam did too, and happily let him ruffle the top of his head.

'Mia is coming,' Genn told her, and Kathryn nodded. Liam perked up at the name. He definitely remembered her. Mia wasted no time in spoiling her grandson rotten, and if Kathryn didn't know any better, was probably his favourite person.

Sure enough, the greying woman swept into the room with an air of grace, quite like she usually did. 'Kathryn! You're back!' She pulled her into a strong hug, before stepping away and giving her a firm look. 'What took you so long? It's been months!'

Kathryn shrugged a little and mumbled an incoherent response, but she was saved having to answer as the queen noticed who else was in the room. Mia made a noise of adoration, and surged forward to scoop Liam into her embrace.

'He looks more and more like his father every day,' she said, looking at him with sadness behind her eyes.

Kathryn's bottom lip trembled. 'I know.'

* * *

Things settled down a little after that. Kathryn and Liam were given a guest bedroom, and invited down to dinner soon after.

'How were you able to support yourself for so long?' Mia asked, looking across the table at Kathryn, over her bowl of soup. 'Did you take money into consideration before you left?'

'I was fine,' Kathryn insisted, not for the first time. 'Really.'

' _How_ fine?' Genn asked, now looking a little stern.

'I . . . I have a few silver left.'

'That would not have lasted you much longer, then,' a new voice put in. Kathryn instinctively shrunk a little in her seat. There was no way she was able to shake off the fact that when the Greymanes dined, it was with King _Varian Wrynn_ himself, and that honestly made her a bit antsy. The guy was nice enough, but he looked _terrifying_. Kathryn was someone who had initially trained herself to keep her distance from royalty (which had obviously failed), so now she tended to be a bit wary whenever interacting with someone she didn't really know.

'Well, I suppose,' she answered, after managing to not swallow her tongue, and pull together a coherent answer. 'But if I really needed to, I suppose I could have sold something.'

'The clothing off your back?' came Mia's sceptical response. Kathryn twisted the gold bracelet on her wrist, and chewed her tongue, deciding not to respond.

Thankfully, a perfectly timed distraction arrived in the form of Liam, who sprinted through the dining room, giggling manically and being chased by a hysterical nursemaid.

'Come _back_ , you little -' She cut off immediately once she realised just where she had ended up, and dropped straight into a deep curtsey, her pale face flaming bright red. 'Your Majesties!' she cried immediately, now backing up a little. 'I am most sorry, I was just -'

'Don't worry about him,' Kathryn said, getting to her feet and dive tackling Liam in one go. 'He's a bit like that. Sorry.' She straightened back up, and handed the wriggling child to the poor girl. 'Chain him up if you have to,' she joked.

Seeming relieved that she wasn't going to have her head lopped off for her obvious failure, the nursemaid gave her a grateful look and hurried back out again, closing the door behind her. Thankfully, the conversation that had been going on before was quite forgotten.

'Little rascal,' Genn said, chuckling, and even Varian had cracked a slight smile.

'I think I have to formally apologise, as that ratbag belongs to me,' Kathryn said, grinning a bit and sitting back at her seat.

After that, the meal progressed. Once Varian left, saying that he had business to attend to, Genn finally brought up something he had clearly wanted to talk about for a while.

'Darius Crowley and his daughter.'

Kathryn's head snapped up, and her stomach plummeted, immediately expecting the worst. 'W-what about them?'

Seeing her alarmed expression, he continued immediately. 'It is nothing bad as of yet, but I have something to discuss.'

Kathryn swallowed, and nodded. He continued.

'They have left with a large group of our people, and returned to Gilneas. They have called themselves the Gilneas Liberation Front, and are presently working to push the Forsaken from our land. Our aim is to reclaim what rightfully belongs to us, and perhaps some of Old Lordaeron.'

She limply set down her glass. 'So it's finally happening?'

'Yes. I feel that you have the right to know, as you played a crucial part in our survival when the Forsaken first arrived.'

Kathryn's mind was working at top speed, processing that information and constructing the skeleton of a plan. 'Are they sending reinforcements any time soon?'

'Yes. A group is departing from Darnassus tomorrow, and another small group is leaving Stormwind later this week.'

With that, the skeleton started to solidify. 'I'm going.'

'What?' Mia said, looking shocked. 'Kathryn, you can't.'

'Yes I can,' she said stoutly, giving everyone at the table a firm look. 'I can and I will.'

'Things are different now, Kathryn,' she replied. 'Two years ago I might have let you, but you were nineteen then, and a fighter. Now you have a son. You can't just _go_.'

'I'm no less of a fighter now than I was then,' she shot back. 'And I'm not _that_ much older – barely twenty one. I need to get out and do something. I can't leave Lorna to fight them, and I've got to help get Gilneas back. I'm just going to have to leave Liam behind.'

'Kathryn, _you're_ the one that has to bring him up! You can't leave him! It's not what he deserves. You have to be there for him. You're not going.'

'Then to hell with that!' She shoved her seat backwards and stood up, slamming her fist on the table. 'I never wanted him in the first place, anyway!'

The room went completely silent, except for Kathryn's heavy breathing. Then, finally Genn spoke.

'You don't mean that.'

She exhaled slowly, her head falling forward. She slid limply back into her seat and rested her face in her hands. 'No, I don't. I'm just high strung.'

'That's understandable.'

She straightened back up, and looked at Mia again. 'I need to go. _Please_.'

Genn and Mia exchanged a look, and seemed to be having a silent argument. Finally, Genn seemed to win, and they both looked at her again.

'I myself believe you would be a crucial factor to this war, Kathryn, but I don't like the idea of you going, either.' He sighed. 'But, I know that if Liam were here, he wouldn't sit around either. He would be with the rest of our people, fighting the undead by the hundred.'

Not Kathryn's son, Liam. The prince of Gilneas, Liam. A wonderful man with the most beautiful hazel eyes, too much good intent, the need to protect his people, and so much bravery. And very much dead.

'But you would have let _him_ go,' Kathryn said faintly. She exhaled again, and knitted her brow into a frown. 'Which is why you have to let me. At least let me fight in his memory, or something like that.'

'He would have conniptions if we let you.'

Kathryn let out a weak laugh. 'I know. Then I would've told him to man up or bugger off.'

Genn gave a small smile. 'That you would. Then, if you want to go so badly, then I suppose . . .' He trailed off and gave her a look that confirmed the answer he and his wife had decided upon. Kathryn felt an intense feeling of elation.

She was going home.

* * *

 **24/9/15**


	2. Moving Again

**I love the feeling of starting a new story. Sucks that I hadn't done it for ages before now. Oh well. Thanks to those people who favourited and followed already - you made my day :)  
**

 **~Ice.**

* * *

 _ **2 – Moving Again**_

 **Kathryn**

'Mummy's going away, okay? I'll be back soon.'

It's never a wise move to let the kid know that you're going, but Kathryn couldn't just up and leave like that. She could be gone for months, for all she knew. It wasn't right to not give him any forewarning.

But, children will be children. So, naturally, Liam started squalling - rather loudly.

'No, shh, it's okay -' People all around them were starting to look, and she hastily shoved him into Mia's arms. 'Mummy's coming back. Mummy's coming back . . .'

'For the last time, are you sure about this?' Genn asked, his thick eyebrows pulling into a frown. Kathryn nodded vehemently, and hoisted her rucksack further up on her shoulder. He had asked several times over the last week, until the Gilneans in Stormwind were leaving by boat, and her answer hadn't changed.

'Positive. I'm not turning back now.'

'Very well. I won't try to change your mind.'

'Thank you.'

'Make contact when you can,' Mia told her. 'Just let us know that you're still alive.'

Kathryn cracked a grin. 'Hey, who do you take me for? I was the best damned rogue in Gilneas – of _course_ I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me.'

'I'm not making any promises.'

This farewell had already been dragged out for the last five minutes, and Kathryn felt her chest starting to constrict more and more the longer it went. Liam was just about having a full on fit now, and she had never felt more guilty. She started to wonder what sort of a person that made her, as even that couldn't change her mind, no matter how awful of a mother she thought she was.

A bell started ringing, indicating that the boat was about to depart. Kathryn looked around quickly, and saw people saying goodbye to their loved ones before they left. She turned back around, and quickly embraced the King and Queen of Gilneas, who had come to be like parents to her. Then, with a final kiss to Liam's forehead and the promise to return with their land reclaimed, she jogged over to the boat and pushed her way on board through the crowd. Nearly ten seconds after she had done so, the anchor rose, and the wooden vessel began to move. Kathryn could just see her family over the numerous heads, and waved goodbye.

'Bye,' she said quietly. Then, with a wan smile, she turned away.

For the first hour or so, things were remotely uneventful. Kathryn staked a claim on one of the many stacked beds beneath deck, grinning a little at the smell of sweat, salt and other gross things. It reminded her of what it used to smell like when she lived on the streets.

She opened her bag and pulled out her glorious array of knives, before strapping them to almost every limb, as was her routine in the past – in her boots, strapped to her calves, up her sleeves, and at least four on her hips. She knew it would take at least two days to reach Gilneas, but she wanted to get back into the habit. Then, she pulled her jacket comfortably over her tiny frame, retied her golden-brown hair into a messy ponytail, and went to look around above deck.

* * *

Men. Out of all the things that _really_ irritated her about the boat-ride (other than the potential sea-sickness) was that there wasn't a single other woman on board. It seemed that the only women who were fighting were worgen, and part of Ivar Bloodfang's . . . "tribe", she supposed she could call it.

And she wasn't the only one to notice that.

'You alright there, doll?'

Kathryn gave a heavy exhale and swilled the small amount of ale she had picked up for the sake of it around in her mug. Honestly, alcohol had never appealed to her. The smell alone was putting her off.

A group of five men were sitting on the stacked crates not far from where she was standing, and looking at her with matching grins. Kathryn raised a single eyebrow, showing that she wasn't particularly fussed to be talking to them.

'Gentlemen,' she replied with a hint of sarcasm.

'You sure you should be here?' one with shaggy black hair and bright blue eyes asked with a teasing grin. 'Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be fighting dead people.'

Kathryn gave him an unimpressed expression, before tipping the remainder of her drink off the edge of the ship and into the churning water below. 'Don't test me, mate, because you'll only get your arse handed to you on a bloody golden platter.'

His friends gave a collective ' _Ooooooh_ ,' and the black haired guy let out a good-natured laugh.

'Dunno if you've noticed, love,' he replied easily, 'but you're _tiny_.'

He didn't even have time to react. In the space of two and a half seconds, Kathryn had tossed her tankard aside, run straight in his direction, flipped him onto his back, and had two knives placed in strategic positions at his throat, all before the mug had hit the cabin wall and clattered to the ground.

'Tiny, but lethal,' she replied with the smallest baring of teeth.

He gave a shaky laugh, seeming impressed.

Unfortunately, her actions had triggered something else. She hadn't been thinking when she'd launched herself at him, and now she was facing the consequences.

Kathryn threw herself to the side, and got to her feet as the spasms started shooting down her spine, and through every nerve. The men collectively watched with raised eyebrows, not even fazed, and the black haired one got to his feet. The next thing she knew, her bones were rearranging their structure and her skin was changing to fit, while fur began to sprout all up her arms and legs. Finally, her head began to morph; her nose elongating into a muzzle.

That had all happened over the course of twenty seconds.

Now that the change was over, Kathryn exhaled heavily and ran a hand over her face in frustration. It was her own fault, really. Bloody worgen curse. She _had_ to attack him . . .

'Hey, you don't make a bad she-wolf,' Black Haired Man said.

'So you've got the Curse, too, huh?' one of his blonde friends said.

Kathryn, who, at the time was more focused on changing back into her human form, did a double take as she processed his sentence. ' _Too?_ '

'You're not the only worgen on this boat, honey,' he replied, folding his arms and leaning back. 'Most of us are, actually.'

She spent a short moment thinking about that as her figure returned to its normal shape and size, before chewing the inside of her cheek and looking back at the group. 'What's your name?' she asked, giving a nod in Black Haired Man's direction.

'Samuel Buckley,' he replied easily. 'Most just call me Sam.'

'And the rest of you?'

'Patrick Murray,' the blonde responded. He pointed to two similar looking brown haired guys, and continued, 'Edward and Farley Chesterhill, and that's Bromley Reeves.' He finished by pointing to the last man, who had very tanned skin, and hair that was somewhere between red and brown.

'What about you, huh?' Farley asked, flashing her a grin. 'Wos your name?'

'Kathryn Weiss,' she replied, crossing her arms. They all exchanged looks that she couldn't read, so she added, 'Got a problem?'

'I know your name from somewhere,' Sam said. 'Just can't put my finger on it.'

Kathryn instantly figured that if he recognised her, it probably wasn't for good reasons. She brushed it off as quickly as possible. 'Just one of those names, I guess.'

'Hmm.' Sam clearly didn't believe her, but he dropped it. 'Anyway, you're a good fighter.' He clapped her on the back and grinned. 'Where'd you learn?'

'Loren the Fence and I were partners in crime,' she replied.

Sam laughed, and replied with, 'Figures.'

'You've been around, then?' Patrick asked.

Kathryn looked skywards and grinned a little, before sitting on the crate pile with them. 'Definitely. All over Teldrassil, and I've been everywhere between here and Gilneas.'

'Alright then – so what's your sob story?'

She blinked. 'Huh?'

'Everything you say hints that you've got one.'

She pulled a face. 'Well, I'm pretty sure mine's the same as everyone else's. Teenage mother, the love of my life was murdered in front of my eyes by the Banshee Queen herself, and, oh yeah, I'm a worgen.'

He laughed. 'Aren't we all?' After a moment he seemed to register how strange that sounded, and backtracked. 'The worgen bit, I mean.'

Kathryn grinned at his reaction to her blatant deadpanning. 'Don't worry. I figured.'

'We've been considering changing our surnames,' Sam put in. 'Something that makes it seem ironic that we have the Curse, like Bloodclaw or Wildhowl, etcetera.'

'There's an idea,' Kathryn agreed, 'but then it won't be the same as the rest of your families'.'

'Don't have any family no more,' Edward said, but the statement seemed nonchalant. He pointed at Farley. 'He's all I've got left, now. Prat.'

She raised an eyebrow in questioning, and Bromley pitched in to explain. 'We don't have anyone after the battle for the city. Lost everyone we had, so we're just sticking together.'

'Right,' Kathryn said, looking at her feet. She hated thinking about that battle. Unfortunately, that's what the boys seemed to want to talk about right now.

'Did you lose someone?' Sam asked.

Kathryn gave a half shrug. 'Well, yeah.'

'That was a bad day,' Farley said, giving a slow nod. He seemed vacant and focused at the same time. 'Then the prince went and got himself killed -'

'He was doing what he thought was right!' Kathryn cut in immediately. They all seemed startled at her sudden snap, and were looking at her with raised eyebrows. 'I-if it weren't for him, the king would be dead, too.'

'Didn't mean no harm!' Farley replied, looking a little alarmed. Kathryn brushed his apology off, immediately regretting her outburst. Damn it, the memories were coming back. That was the last thing she needed.

Sam was looking at her with an evaluating sort of look. 'Hang on. You said your man was killed by Sylvanas. Was he - ?'

'It doesn't matter,' Kathryn said heavily, sliding off the crates again. 'I'm going downstairs. See you around, I guess.'

* * *

They found her again a few hours later, down in the mess hall with everyone else at dinner. All five of them crowded around her in the corner with boyish greetings, ruffling her hair and giving her one-armed hugs, like men do. It seemed that despite her temper Kathryn had won their respect, and apparently, once you had managed that, you were instantly a bloke's best friend.

Weird.

She didn't mind, though. It meant that she wouldn't be spending this trip alone, polishing her knives like some strange person.

It seemed that most of the conversation that had happened earlier was forgotten. They continued on as though it hadn't happened, and Kathryn found herself visibly relaxing, and joining in with their discussions. They told her about their life on the streets of Stormwind; about their numerous escapades and the jokes they played on unsuspecting travellers. _Really_ , Kathryn thought, _they're just like children. They definitely behave that way._

In return, she told them about her travels. Skirting around the reason why she returned to Gilneas in the first place, she mentioned how it was actually quite difficult to cart a child around the Wetlands, especially when murlocs tried to jump out at you like no tomorrow. But there was also a humorous side to it, too, like when men had tried to chat her up, before looking down and realising that there was a one year old clinging to her leg, then turning and walking in the other direction. Or another time where she'd encountered a most unlikely duo at a tavern in the middle of nowhere; a blood elf and a goblin had rather unceremoniously invited her over to their table, clearly not caring that she was a member of the Alliance, and they'd had the strangest of conversations.

'So, this kid of yours,' Sam eventually asked, 'where is he?'

'Left him back at Stormwind,' Kathryn answered. 'Had to.'

He gave a small nod of understanding, before cracking a cheeky smile. 'Well, he's got one badass mum.'

Kathryn couldn't help it. She grinned right back at him.

Things kicked off rather well after that. Kathryn managed to admit to herself that she was starting to become friends with these men, and they seemed to think the same. They wasted no time trying to flirt with her, of course, but it was more in a friendly, teasing manner than anything else, as they knew she was off-limits in that respect. Kathryn really wasn't all that bothered by it, and they seemed to realise that once her walls had been broken down a little, and her guard relaxed, she wasn't going to metaphorically (or literally) bite their heads off.

It was contributing factors like these that distracted her from thinking about where she was going – and the possible consequences that were most likely going to come with it.

* * *

 **26/9/15**


	3. Of Course I'm Alright

**Does anyone else just _love_ it when you get to write drama? I can't wait, honestly, because I do. **

**Thanks for the people that have shown interest; following, favouriting, reviewing - you're great :)**

 **~Ice.**

* * *

 _ **3 – Of Course I'm Alright  
**_

 **Kathryn**

' _No matter what happens, just . . . keep fighting. I love you.'_

Snippets. Images. Hair sopping wet from the ocean.

' _This won't be the end of it. You promised!'_

A grin, ever so slightly tongue-touched. A fist ruffling hair.

' _I know. But I had to say it. At least once.'_

A hand, extended in offering. Laughter. Hope.

' _You're making it sound like this is the last time we'll see each other.'_

A bright red flare, shooting into the sky. Battle cries.

' _It isn't. It's going to be okay.'_

Blood. Lots of blood. Tears. A shaky breath, then emptiness.

' _. . . I believe you.'_

She snapped awake, feeling herself falling all over again. The horrible, light feeling that always made her feel sick. The fist that felt like it was clamping over her heart to the point where it hurt, _so damned much_. The heaviness that built up in her head, weighing her down both mentally and physically. The uncontrollable sobs that made her chest shake violently, making her look like she was having a seizure.

It was all coming back.

Kathryn hadn't had a nightmare in months – a new record for her. She didn't know what had brought all this back; whether it was talking about it, leaving Liam behind . . . or going home.

It was most likely that. The last time she had visited, she had kept up her strong façade until later than night, when she had collapsed in her bedroom on the ship and buried her face in her pillow, crying and screaming so much that Liam had started to panic. He was the only thing which managed to pull her out of that episode, triggering her to leap up with a start and pull him into her arms, quietly shushing him until he calmed down. When the shipmaster turned up to see what was going on, he had found Kathryn curled up in a ball on the bed, and Liam sitting beside her head, just about to nod off.

She had _tried_ to keep control, but for that period of time she had lost focus.

This time, she swore she wasn't going to. Feeling the hot tears trailing their way down her cheeks, she sat up and swung her feet off the bed, getting up unsteadily and stretching. In the room next door she could hear a good deal of people causing a ruckus, clearly drunk beyond belief and with no intention of sleeping any time soon. Ignoring them, Kathryn focused on regulating her breathing and walked outside, onto the deck of the ship.

The salty air stung her face, prompting her to hurriedly wipe her eyes and regain what little composure she had. She walked to the edge and looked out into the blackness, hearing the tossing and turning of the ocean below her. Somehow, it felt nauseating rather than calming, and she turned away after a minute, sitting down in the dark with her back against the main cabin.

This was her second night on the boat. Last night, she had stayed awake with her new friends until the early hours of the morning, laughing at them as they steadily became more and more drunk, until the point where they had collapsed on each other in a heap. It was this distraction that had kept Kathryn from thinking too deeply, and her night had been both peaceful and dreamless. Today however, she had left a lot earlier and sat on her bed, turning a knife over in her hands and polishing it with the sleeve of her jacket every once in a while, thinking about Liam and how he was getting on. One thing had led to another, and before she knew it, she was thinking about the disrepair Gilneas had fallen to after the population had left, and the grim feeling it had left with it. That had most likely triggered the nightmare.

She remembered too much.

Kathryn silently drew her knees into her chest and chewed her lip, sighing internally. No matter how much of an emotional impact this was going to have on her, Kathryn wasn't turning back. She was going to see Lorna again – her _best friend_ – and she'd be damned if a couple of bad memories would send her in the other direction. There were more important things to worry about, like pushing the Forsaken out of their lands.

The door right beside her swung open with a loud _bang_ , startling Kathryn to the point where she instinctively went to grab for an imaginary knife. The silhouette of a man tottered out, clearly drunk as hell.

'Ah, y'can all . . . shove off . . .' he slurred, raising a hand as though waving off someone. 'Arses . . .'

Kathryn felt her eyebrows rise. 'Sam?'

He spun around rather slowly, and the small amount of light that was escaping through the door made his face visible. 'Hey, it's – _hic_ – Kat-Kathry-Kathy! _Heyyyy,_ Kathy!'

'By the Light,' she groaned. 'You're drunk _again?_ '

'Yep!' he said proudly. 'I – _hic_ – beat Eddie.'

It took Kathryn a moment to process that, and when she did, she sighed. Of course. They'd had a _drinking contest._

'Am I right in assuming that poor Edward's in worse shape than you are?' she asked dryly, crossing her arms and looking up at him, stretching her legs out again.

He stumbled a bit, before grinning. 'Yep!'

There was a pause, and Kathryn just watched him as he leaned forward on the balls of his feet to the point where it was dangerous. 'I'm just waiting for the moment where you fall over,' she told him. 'Then I'm going to laugh.'

' _Well_ , aren' _chou_ nice?' he said with as much sarcasm as he seemed to be able to muster. 'I'm just gonna . . . sit . . .'

He fell over.

Unfortunately, this sort of "falling over" incorporated him landing painfully on Kathryn's legs, and sprawling out like a starfish with his face planted into the wooden deck. He let out a half-groan as Kathryn squawked in pain, trying to both wriggle away, and push him onto his back at the same time. She drew her legs in as he half-heartedly rolled onto his side. Seeing his facial expression, Kathryn didn't bother with berating him, and simply burst into laughter.

Sam made a funny noise and struggled to sit up, like a turtle that had gotten stuck on its back. Upon seeing this, Kathryn went into another fit, causing him to make a noise of indignation.

'Help?' he pleaded, looking pathetic. Wiping her eyes and subsiding into giggles, Kathryn grabbed his hands and hauled him into a sitting position, swivelling him around so he was leaning against the cabin beside her.

'You're an idiot,' she told him fondly, grinning from ear to ear. He mumbled, putting a hand to his head and grimacing. He then looked at her sulkily.

'M'head hurts . . .'

'I wonder why?' she replied sarcastically.

'Mmph . . .' His head lolled onto her shoulder, and she sighed heavily, debating whether or not to push him off. Since he was drunk, she decided she was going to be nice.

'You do realise that if you weren't in this situation, I would punch you for touching me right now?' she asked, looking at him.

He gave a non-committal grunt. 'Nah . . . You wouldn' . . .'

'Don't count on that.'

'Did'ja punch your – hic – boyfriend?'

Kathryn blinked at the forwardness of his question, and furrowed her brow into a frown. ' _No_. Well . . .' She decided to change that answer. 'Almost. On several occasions I nearly did.'  
Sam closed his eyes and leaned a little more of his weight into her shoulder. 'Keep talkin' . . .'

She sighed. He wasn't going to remember this in the morning, anyway. It wouldn't hurt to talk about it. In fact, she hoped it would lift some of the weight off her chest she had been carrying for quite a while.

'I nearly smacked him across the face one time when he was as drunk as you are right now,' she told him. 'Though mind you, it didn't show nearly as much. _He_ didn't slur. He just . . . tottered. But it was because of me, so . . .'

'Not your fault if he was the one drunk,' Sam mumbled.

'Well, yes, it was. He thought I was stuck as a worgen for good. The feral kind, I mean.'

'Tha's stupid.'

'He was compulsive,' Kathryn replied defensively. 'If you say anything bad about him I won't hesitate to give you a black eye and a concussion. Got it?'

'Mmph . . .'

She sighed. 'I think you should go to bed.'

'Nah,' he replied, trying to lazily wave her off, but nearly smacking her in the nose as he did so. 'M'fine . . .'

She scoffed. 'Mate, you're far from fine.'

'M' _fine_. But you're not.'

'Don't be stupid. Of course I'm alright.'

'No y'not.'

She exhaled heavily, looking down at Sam and deciding to give him the direct cut. 'Almost two years ago, one of the best things I'd had in my Light-forsaken life was taken from me in the worst way possible. _Then_ I wasn't okay. But, now I've recovered.' The last part was a lie. A complete and utter lie.

And drunk or not, Sam could tell.

'Tha's not true.'

'Yes, it is.'

'Nope.'

' _Sam_.'

' _Ka-_ hic _-Kathy_.'

'Why do you call me that? _Kathy? Really?_ '

He shrugged. 'M'drunk. Don' judge.'

She gave him a feline grin. 'I'm judging. A lot.'

There was a long pause, then completely out of the blue, he asked, 'Wos his name?'

She blinked. 'Who?'

He waved his arms in a dramatic (and very drunken) dramatization. 'The dead guy.'

'Oh.' She leaned away to avoid his flailing fists and tried to brush over the fact that he'd said it so bluntly. 'Liam. His name was Liam.'

Sam shook his head. ' _Noooo_ , tha's your kid's name.'

Kathryn couldn't help herself. She laughed a little, and swatted Sam over the head. 'They're _both_ named Liam, you idiot.' Then she sobered. 'I named the child after him.'

In his fuzzy state of mind, Sam was clearly struggling to process that. Then he said, 'You were snoggin' the _prince?_ '

Kathryn went bright red at the incredulity in his voice, and let out an awkward sounding giggle. 'You're making it sound like something awful, damn it.' She shook her head and shoved his shoulder playfully. 'You are definitely too drunk to be conscious right now. Come on. You need to sleep.'

'Ergh.' He grudgingly let her pull him to his feet, and leaned heavily on her as she directed him back inside, before ungracefully shoving him back into his bed.

'If you see Bromley, tell him I'm sparring him in the morning,' she told him. 'And you too, if you're up to it.'

He gave a mock salute. 'Yes ma'am.' He then flopped back onto the pillow, and within fifteen seconds, he was snoring.

* * *

'I reckon you should quicken your disarming; sort of bring your arms around like this, and . . . yeah, that's it.'

After quickly replicating Bromley's suggestion, Kathryn swiftly moved in and flipped him onto his back before he could even process it. It was easy enough, despite the fact that they were all in worgen form.

'Yeah, okay, everything else is fine,' he wheezed, chuckling at her quick actions. 'You're good, alright.'

Kathryn got up and rolled out her shoulders, before helping Bromley to his feet. 'I don't know. Hand to hand combat isn't really my thing. I'm better at stealth.'

'You still know what you're doing,' Farley offered, giving her a grin. He turned to the two men beside him. 'Okay, which one o' you losers is next, huh?'

They both gave non-committal grumbles and put their hands over their ears, squeezing their eyes even more tightly shut.

'Serves you right,' Patrick said from their other side. Sam cracked open a single eyelid, while Edward burrowed his head into his knees.

'Hangovers are a bi – ARGH!' Sam's last word was cut off due to Patrick shoving him off the crates, and straight onto the floor. Farley started howling with laughter, and Bromley cracked a grin, picking up the daggers Kathryn had discarded when disarming him. Edward didn't seem to care; he was more set on avoiding opening his eyes and suffering the consequences.

Sam was sprawled out on the wooden deck, squinting in the brightness and muttering profanities. Feeling slightly sorry for him amidst her laughing, Kathryn offered a hand and he took it, nearly hauling her over with him. He had to be nearly double her weight, as he was made up of a fair bit of muscle, and he was almost two feet taller than her (which, to be honest, wasn't a difficult feat). The same case went for all of the others. Kathryn was easily the tiniest in the group.

'Arses,' he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

'And Sammy's just volunteered to step up to the plate!' Bromley announced, chucking him the daggers. Surprisingly enough, Sam reacted quickly and caught them before they sliced his face open. He then looked at Kathryn, finally processing the fact that he had to spar her, and groaned, trying to turn away.

'Aww, come on, why can't Eddie do it?' he complained. 'I don't wanna . . .'

'You're not chickening out, are you?' Patrick asked with a grin, raising his eyebrows. 'Look at that, boys! Sam won't fight a girl!'

Sam rolled his eyes at his friend's teasing, but that spurred him to get a grip on his daggers. 'Alright then. Let's see how this works out.'

Kathryn quirked a single eyebrow, smirking. That instantly unnerved him, and seeming unsure, he tried to replicate that action.

Before he could even process it, she struck. She ducked low and moved quickly, punching him behind the knees and sending him toppling on his backside. Then she put what little weight she had onto his torso, slamming him into the ground and pinning his wrists with her hands. The increased pressure caused him to release the daggers, and she brought her own to his neck.

'That was quick,' she commented idly. Sam just let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

'I'm too knackered for this.'

'I can tell.' She tutted. 'You didn't even put up a fight. That was painfully easy.'

'Okay, okay, no need to rub it in.' He gave a sarcastic eye-roll. 'You're bruising my pride.'

'I've been known to do that on the odd occasion.' She got to her feet and dusted her hands, before helping him up. He grumbled and rolled out his shoulders while she just grinned impishly at him.

'I say we have round two later, when I'm not feeling so damn shoddy; that'll make it a bit fairer on me and my poor pride, and . . . Kathryn? Kathy? You there?'

Kathryn didn't reply. She was too busy looking over Sam's shoulder, her facial muscles weak. He and the rest of the group turned to see what she was looking at, and clearly couldn't understand why she seemed so affected.

'We're here,' Bromley said quietly.

As though it had come out of nowhere, the endless stretch of sea was broken by the peak of Aderic's Repose jutting into the sky.

* * *

 **28/9/15**


	4. Old Friends

**Back again. I'm assuming that the approximate wait between chapters will be one or two weeks, and hey, that's not too bad. We'll see.  
**

 **~Ice.**

* * *

 _ **4 – Old Friends**_

 **Kathryn**

Kathryn was off the boat seconds after it docked at Keel Harbour. How could she not? The familiar feeling of Gilnean soil under her boots was enough to calm her nerves, and she inhaled deeply, letting her shoulders fall back.

Home.

She could hear footsteps on the wooden dock behind her, and she looked around just as Farley and Edward appeared on either side of her.

'Why the rush, Tiny?' Farley asked with a teasing grin. 'All the pretty flowers are still gonna be here in five minutes.'

Kathryn gave him a pointed look. Over the past three days she had been given so many different nicknames that she just wanted to toss the lot of them off the boat. However, she knew it meant that they liked her, so she put up with it. So she brushed over it and gave him a smart comeback.

'Oh, I don't know; last time we were all here, half the land disappeared overnight. For all you know, there could be a daisy-picking monster that wants to come after the wildflowers.'

'Why the hell would a "daisy-picking monster" want _wildflowers?_ ' Edward replied, elbowing her. 'As far as I know, they ain't daisies.'

'He's just broadening his horizons, that's all,' Kathryn said, kneeling down and picking a few of the flowers. 'The poor monster needs a new alternative. He's been living for years only picking _daisies_. That's why he wants some variety.' She stood back up, and started putting the blossoms in Edward's hair. 'Come on, flower boy, we've got weapons to move.'

Edward bristled at the teasing jab, but complied.

Crates upon crates of weapons and ammunition had to be unloaded from the boat. The group that had departed from Stormwind was actually quite small, as their main focus had been to bring artillery to the base camp, as opposed to fighters. If needed, the 7th Legion would arrive as reinforcements within two weeks.

'Where are we actually _going?_ ' Kathryn asked, as she dumped a handful of blunderbusses into one of the few horse-and-carts that had turned up with a small group of people shortly after their arrival.

'We've a camp set up just in front of the Wall,' someone answered. 'Miss Crowley's been running it while Darius goes about his business, rallying more troops.'

Lorna. For the first time in almost half a year, Kathryn was going to see her again. She didn't know what to think.

She followed the group as it started moving gradually north east along the path, towards the huge wall in the distance. Everywhere she looked, memories arose.

Gilnean summers. The farms brimming with cattle and crops. The snow during the colder seasons, capping the mountains and dusting everything else it could reach.

It felt so _good_.

Sam nudged her side as they moved into the Headlands. 'See all those sheep flocks?' he asked. When Kathryn nodded, he added, 'The boys and I would try to ride them bareback when we were younger. Didn't work.'

She laughed. 'I'm not surprised.'

He shrugged. 'Eh. We did it for the heck of it. It was fun, anyway.'

As they progressed, Kathryn could see how much disarray the Forsaken had brought. Unused artillery was left along the sides of the road, huge glass balls of some green liquid were set up as though intended for some purpose, and the air held faint traces of a foul stench.

'So they've already been driven back a bit?' she noted, looking around at the lack of humanoids, minus their group.

'We're aiming to send them back to Tirisfal Glades,' someone else replied. He hefted the guns he was carrying further onto his shoulders in order to get a better grip, and continued. 'They're putting up one hell of a fight, though. We're hoping that won't last long. Ivar Bloodfang and his pack have just agreed to be allies.'

She nodded, then gestured around. 'What's all this?'

'Remnants of one of the Forsaken outposts. They've established their Forward Command just inside the Greymane Wall, though, so we're keeping a close eye on them. We send in small attacks fairly frequently, narrowing down their numbers.'

She paused, and turned to look at the man with an incredulous frown. 'That's suicidal!'

He shrugged. 'What else can we do?'

She exhaled a little. 'Fair point. At least they can't make the worgen like . . . _them_.'

'That's the idea.'

The group reached the colossal gates of the Wall and began moving through, turning to the right and walking through the thick growth of trees. After a few minutes, the slightest glimpses of an encampment were visible, and they headed toward it. The forest opened out into a small clearing, chock full of tents. Both people and worgen who seemingly had a purpose were walking to and fro, having discussions, scanning over battle reports, and looking . . . _organised_.

Organised warfare. Oh, the irony.

Then again, how does one win a battle without planning it? Kathryn figured that this must be normal. Last time she had been caught up in a battle, there was none of this. It was just a group of people fighting for their city. Nothing more, nothing less. Every action was more an on the spot, spontaneous decision than anything.

The man Kathryn had been talking to poked his head into one of the tents. 'Miss Crowley? The artillery from Stormwind has just arrived. The 7th Legion says that they're ready to be deployed immediately if we need reinforcements.'

A response came from inside that Kathryn couldn't hear, and the man dropped the tent flap, before turning back to the group.

'Put everything over here,' he said, gesturing to a nearby pile of crates. 'Darius intends to send a small group out on an assignment tonight, so make sure you're ready at a moment's notice.' He left.

The group dispersed, but instead of following Sam and the others, Kathryn quietly made her way over to the tent. After a moment of breathing, bouncing around on the balls of her feet, and gaining some composure, she tentatively pulled open the flap.

Lorna Crowley was sitting on a mat in the middle of the floor, pouring numerous scrolls of parchment and looking frustrated. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders, unkempt and slightly frizzy, and she had that air of having just woken up. She didn't look up at Kathryn's arrival.

'Yes?' she asked, rolling one sheet up and tossing it aside, before holding another two side by side and appearing to be comparing them. 'I'm a little busy. Make it quick.'

Kathryn quirked a single eyebrow. 'Lor?'

There was a split-second of pause, then Lorna's head shot up, her eyes wide. ' _Kathryn?_ '

Kathryn couldn't help it. Her face split into a wide grin, and Lorna instantly got to her feet, replicating the action, surging forward and pulling her friend into a fierce hug.

'What are you _doing_ here?' she asked incredulously, eventually drawing away and giving Kathryn a once-over. 'What about Liam? Where have you _been_ the last six months?'

'Did you honestly think I'd let you take on all those Forsaken without letting me get in a few kills?' Kathryn asked jokingly. 'I wasn't leaving you here with all these _men_ , damn it!' She grinned again.

Lorna shook her head in disbelief. 'Yes, but _Liam?_ Where does one leave a child when they go to save the world, hmm?'

'Stormwind.'

'Ah. And where have you been?'

'Gallivanting through the wonders of the Wetlands,' Kathryn replied dryly. 'Been everywhere between here and Stormwind.' She folded her arms. 'So, are you still "busy"?'

Lorna cast a quick glance behind her at the papers she had haphazardly abandoned, then looked back at her. 'It can wait.'

'Thought so.'

* * *

 **Lorna**

They spent the entire morning and well into the afternoon catching up. Lorna prodded her until Kathryn talked about almost every detail of her travelling, and in return she filled her in with what had been happening in the fight to retake Gilneas. Her father, Darius, had allied with the Bloodfang worgen, and had managed to retake some select areas of Gilneas, including the Harbour and parts of the Headlands, which was why Kathryn's group hadn't encountered any of the Forsaken on their way down. There were scouts at every known Horde encampment on the southern side of the Greymane Wall, and in a few strategic positions in Silverpine Forest. There were five at the Forsaken High Command. Lorna was in charge of the main encampment here, and therefore no moves could be made without referring to her first.

'You could help me,' she offered. 'With running this operation, and all.'

Kathryn seemed to be contemplating it. Then she looked up with a wry smile, and said. 'I'd be one insane leader, you know that? Everything would revolve around the concept of "Die, Forsaken scum, die!", and then someone would have me locked up, before finding a new leader. I'm not sure I'd be that great an asset.'

'Shut _up_ ,' Lorna laughed. 'You're mad. You're easily one of Gilneas' most resilient fighters, and, believe it or not -' She leaned over and rapped Kathryn's head with her knuckles. '- you've got half a brain. You're one of the best things we have in this war.'

Kathryn shrugged slightly in an attempt to be modest, but a tiny grin was pulling at her mouth. 'Aww, shucks.'

A group of three worgen came galloping into the camp on all fours, bruised, battered and bloody. One of them collapsed as soon as he came to a stop, hitting the ground with a heavy thump and going limp. Instantly people ran forward to help, leading them to the medical tent. The fallen worgen thankfully wasn't dead, but surely heading towards it.

The first worgen switched to human form, putting a hand to a bleeding gash on his head. 'We were keeping an eye on the Sepulcher,' he said, breathing heavily. 'They spotted us . . . chased us all the way through to Pyrewood, but . . . we lost them. Killed most of them.'

The man who was now mopping up the blood trailing down his face turned to another beside him. 'Report to Mistmantle. Tell him to pull back his assault. That was Crowley's orders if something like this happened.'

Kathryn turned to Lorna. 'Was it?'

She shrugged a little. 'Father was in two minds about scouting the Sepulcher. He left some backup orders before he went.'

Kathryn watched the man as he left, before looking back. 'Speaking of which, where's Tobias?'

Lorna paused, looking blankly ahead and trying to decide how to answer this. Of _course_ she didn't know. She hadn't been in contact with anyone for half a year.

'I . . . I don't know,' she eventually answered. It was a true but hesitant response.

Kathryn instantly picked that up. 'What happened?' she asked, narrowing her eyes. 'Is . . . Is everything okay, Lor?'

Lorna looked down at her idly swinging feet, resting her hands on the crate she was sitting on. She paused for a long while, but eventually spoke. 'Tobias and I aren't . . . together anymore.'

Kathryn froze. ' _Why?_ '

'Issues,' Lorna responded.

Kathryn wouldn't let up. ' _What_ issues?' When Lorna didn't answer, she grabbed her hand. 'Lorna, what happened?'

'You have Liam,' Lorna burst out, having to contain her volume when she started too loudly. 'Y-you have Liam, and he's _yours_ , and you'll raise him, and who knows, maybe you'll move on and have other children. But you _have him_ , yeah?'

'I don't think I'll move on, per se,' Kathryn replied levelly. 'But yes, he's definitely mine. What -?'

'Tobias wants kids,' she continued. 'He wants a family and lots of children, and it's _just not fair_.'

Kathryn frowned. 'Lorna, what are you talking about? You can have children.'

Lorna made a funny scoffing noise and tilted her head back, trying to keep her eyes from welling up. 'Three miscarriages in under two years. I've learned to take a hint.'

' _Three?_ I thought it was only two! When -'

'About two and a half months ago.'

Kathryn paused, taking that in. 'I'm so sorry,' she whispered. 'But . . . but why did he leave?'

'He didn't want to,' Lorna admitted.

'. . . You made him?'

'He can go find someone else, now. Someone who can actually give him that.'

Kathryn's brow furrowed into a frown, and she pulled Lorna into a sideways hug, so her head was resting on the other woman's shoulder. 'Lorna, he didn't just want a family; he wanted _you!_ And you pushed him away.'

'Don't you see, Kathryn?' Lorna cried. 'I let him _go!_ He deserves better!'

'No,' Kathryn replied firmly, 'he deserves you. And you know that.' There was a pause, and she exhaled heavily. 'Sometimes you don't realise what you have until you've lost it, Lorna. I learned that the hard way. Please, don't let him leave. Especially not now. Anything could happen here– this is life or _death_. I . . . I don't want you to regret this.'

'I don't want to regret it, either,' she whispered.

Kathryn gave her hand a squeeze, and looked around. 'But he is actually _here_ , yes? In Gilneas?'

Lorna nodded.

'I think you should try to fix things up. I know you still love him, and I'll be damned if he doesn't feel the same way.'

'I . . .' Lorna sat up and put her head in her hands. 'I don't know what to do anymore.'

Kathryn gave her a wan but reassuring smile. 'I know. It's difficult.' She looked over Lorna's shoulder at the sun, which was just beginning to set. 'But now, let's go kick some Forsaken _arse_.'

* * *

 **5/10/15**


	5. Attack

**Already starting to progress into the plot. _Aaand_ I've also started to come up with another story - not related to this, I'm afraid - that I'm sort of itching to write. Man, some of the zones in WoW are inspirational places.  
**

 **~Ice.**

* * *

 _ **5 – Attack**_

 **Kathryn**

'We've been waiting for these guys all day,' Tobias muttered in a low voice to Kathryn, looking over the top of the boulder the small group of worgen were skulking behind. 'And they've just arrived.'

'Reinforcements?' Kathryn asked, just as quietly.

He gave a nod and a dry chuckle. 'Yes, but not for us.'

Sam sniffed the air and a low rumble built in his chest. 'Orcs.'

In worgen form, he was a great, silvery-grey behemoth, larger than almost any of their kind Kathryn had met, save Darius. His vivid yellow eyes travelled over the silhouette of the ships which were just beginning to reach the shore, and he bared his fangs just a little.

'Take them down?' Kathryn asked, flexing her clawed fingers and looking at Tobias for confirmation.

He nodded. 'Take them down.' With that, he leapt out from their hiding place with a growl and dove into the water. The rest of the group quickly followed in suit.

Worgen were remarkable swimmers. Kathryn herself had never been particularly good at it, but she had come to assume that during the time period she was fully worgen, with no recollection of her activities, she had somehow learned. She had no difficulty gliding through the water as quietly as possible, almost at the head of the group, and they had reached the cluster of boats within the minute. Giving everyone a look that told them to keep quiet, Tobias dug his claws into the wood and used them to hoist himself up, before effortlessly pulling them back out again like the ship was made of soft butter. Kathryn followed his lead, and the rest of the group began to spread themselves out among the boats, before also doing so.

They were expecting a fight. What they weren't expecting was for all of the orcs to be completely drunk, with the majority of them incapacitated.

'You're kidding,' Tobias said incredulously, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead.

'That definitely . . . simplifies things, then,' Kathryn agreed, her jaw a little slack.

Tobias sighed, and shook his head. 'Find the kerosene. Let's burn this thing down.'

Kathryn immediately went to the ship's cabin, only to find it locked. With a heavy sigh and an eye roll, she incorporated a spin for bad-ass looks and kicked it down. A few of the orcs jolted a little, and began staggering to their feet when they saw they had company.

'Lok-narash!' one of them bellowed, hiccupping a bit. Tobias silenced him with a sharp kick to the head, but the others were beginning to follow. Soon the worgen was overwhelmed by a mass of huge, green, axe-wielding war psychos.

If you hadn't gathered, Kathryn never liked orcs very much.

She knew Tobias would be fine. He was huge, ridiculously strong as a worgen, and most certainly not drunk. Those orcs would be putty in his claws.

Kathryn however, wasn't as sure about her own odds. She was half Tobias' size, and she didn't know the condition of her enemies down below. All she had was her quickness and the potential element of surprise.

Yelling began to ensue on the other boats, and Kathryn whipped around, seeing that the rest of the worgen had begun to cause chaos and start their mission of burning everything down.

Okay, so the surprise bit was probably gone, now.

With a bit of an internal grumble, she ventured down into the bowels of the ship.

Thankfully, kerosene was readily in supply. Kathryn grabbed several bottles of it, plus some flint. She popped the lid off one of the bottles and began haphazardly splashing it everywhere, before quite happily running amok through all of the rooms, ignoring the sleeping orcs she passed. Her abilities as a rogue made her incredibly quiet, and since she was quite the professional when it came to stealthing, she went unnoticed.

She resurfaced on the deck when she had only one bottle left, which she tipped onto the floorboards out there. Tobias was just polishing off the last of the orcs, and right when Kathryn tossed the empty bottles aside, he was ready to abandon ship.

Fate, however, had other plans.

The ship's admiral had just realised what was going on out there, and she charged out towards them, definitely _not drunk_ and wielding a vicious looking war-hatchet.

Kathryn turfed her off the boat.

That was legitimately what happened. Quickly looping behind the admiral, she kicked her in the knee-joints, laced their arms so they were back-to back, bent forward, rolled her over her back, and sent her off the edge and into the water.

Man, orcs were _heavy_. Especially considering this one was at least two heads taller than her.

'Let's go,' Tobias said, grabbing her hand and helping Kathryn to her feet. 'Light that flint and we'll be off.' Right when he said that, one of the other boats promptly went up in a ball of flames.

'Yessir.' With that, Kathryn struck the flint so it sparked, tossed it aside, and ran like hell.

Searing heat hit her from behind as she and Tobias leapt off the boat, she yelped as her clothes and the ends of her fur caught fire just before she hit the water. The flames were extinguished with an awful sizzling noise, and immediately Tobias grabbed her by the wrist, swimming back in the direction of the shore.

'We need to move,' he told her. 'The water might start to boil if we stay here too long.'

Fully agreeing with that, Kathryn followed him all the way back to land, before pulling herself out of the water, drenched, exhausted, and slightly smoking. She looked back around at the remains of the boats. She could see the silhouettes of the other worgen returning to shore in the dark water. As the ships quickly began to fall to pieces, orcs were all diving into the water, deliberately bringing the barrels of ale with them. _Men._ They were all the same, no matter what race.

'Let's go,' she said to Tobias, turning back to him. 'Lorna will want a report.'

* * *

Retaliation was swift. The worgen had been assured in the fact that the reinforcements were dealt with and that the Forsaken would still be struggling to keep their numbers up, and figured that it would be at least a few days before they got a response.

They got one the very next morning.

A small Forsaken strike force took out twelve of Bloodfang's worgen, and were gone before the rest of the Gilneans could process what had happened.

'They have powerful allies,' Patrick mused as he and Kathryn worked to carry one of the butchered corpses away to be buried. 'Particularly strong fighters already within their own ranks.'

'There's no other explanation for it,' Kathryn replied. 'The only other option would be that more reinforcements were sent down from Silvermoon, but that's really unlikely. And, the attack came too soon for that to be the case.'

'Thank you for voicing the obvious,' he replied irritably, relieving her of the bloodied body and pitching it into the temporary burial hole that had been made for this particular purpose.

'What, did you already think of that or something?' she shot back stiffly.

'Perhaps.'

She and Patrick had never gotten along right from the beginning. She had no idea what she had done wrong, but he had always been a hostile individual. To her, anyway.

Maybe it was because one of the first interactions she'd had with him was putting a knife to his best friend's throat. Hmm.

'Why are you so pissed off all the time?' she asked, turning to him and crossing her arms. He pulled a face and looked down at her, raising an eyebrow in incredulity.

'Why am I so _pissed off?_ Now _that's_ a charming way to begin a conversation.'

'Are you going to answer my question or what?'

He cracked a grin at her obvious annoyance. 'I think I'll leave that for you to figure out for yourself, Blondie.' Then before she could process his sudden change in attitude, he turned on his heel and was disappearing through the trees.

'I'm not _blonde!_ ' she shouted after his retreating figure, bristling.

'You are a _little_ ,' a new voice told her. Kathryn turned, arms crossed and glaring something impressive, to find Sam. When her frown intensified, he raised his arms defensively. 'I'm just stating the facts.'

'I'm not blonde,' she repeated. 'And your friend is an arse.'

'I know,' Sam replied, coming over to her side and peering into the hole full of dead worgen she had been standing beside for the last thirty seconds. He grimaced. 'Light, they really butchered the poor buggers, didn't they?'

'There wasn't much left to retrieve,' Kathryn agreed.

He paused. 'I suppose it had to be expected.'

'Not this quickly, though. How did they manage this?'

He shrugged. 'Beats me. Come on, let's go back to camp.'

As they left the mediocre burial site, Kathryn voiced an idea that had been hovering at the back of her mind ever since this had happened. 'I think they'll attack again. Soon.'

'Do they have the manpower to do it, though?' he put in, looking at her questioningly.

She shrugged. 'I don't know, but it would be a strategic move, wouldn't it? Attack when we're least expecting it – this being straight after cleaning up the previous ambush.'

They reached then encampment just as Sam replied. 'That could be possible, but I think they would be more focused on regrouping and calling in another round of reinforcements. It would be more – _Hey_ , she's a looker.' He whistled, and Kathryn turned to see he was looking right at Lorna, with his eyebrows raised in appreciation.

'"She" also happens to be my best friend,' Kathryn replied easily, crossing her arms and quirking a single eyebrow. 'Touch her and I'll gouge your eyes out with the hilt of someone's sword. Most likely your own.'

Sam looked down at her incredulously. 'Why the hilt?'

She shrugged nonchalantly. 'I think it would hurt more. You know, with the pressure and all, right before they pop out of their sockets. I'd use my thumbs or something, but I don't think I could reach.'

He bristled. 'Damn right. Fine, I won't go near her, but that doesn't mean I can't window-shop.'

Kathryn struck him sharply on the arm, and he yelped.

'Don't even look,' she warned. 'You won't just have _me_ to answer to – there also happens to be Darius _bloody_ Crowley.'

He paused. 'Wait, _that's_ Lorna?'

' _Yes!_ '

'Oh. Right. Got it.'

Kathryn sighed and rolled her eyes. 'Find a lady-friend, Sam.'

He gave her a pointed look. 'With that temper of yours, I think you should do the same.'

She shook her head. 'No, I'll stick by the rules of widow-hood. _And_ I have a child at home, in case you still haven't registered that fact.'

'You're not _technically_ a widow,' Sam replied. He reached out and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his eye level and causing Kathryn to have to rise onto her toes. 'See? No ring.'

'I'm _aware_ , thank you very much,' she grumbled, yanking it back out of his grip and returning to ground level. 'Don't do that. You'll pull my arm off before you know it.'

He grinned at her. 'I legitimately _have not_ met a woman as small as you before. You must be a biological oddity.'

She crossed her arms and stared at him for a long moment, most unimpressed. 'It's not just your friend that's an arse. You are too.'

He gave a dramatic bow. 'I am honoured, my lady.'

She swatted his arm again, sighed heavily, and walked away.

* * *

The next few days were like a game of cards. One side would send out troops, cause a little damage, and retreat. Then the other side would do the same thing. And so on.

'We're not getting anywhere,' Lorna muttered, running her hand over her face in frustration. 'All we're going to do is wear down until there's no one left.'

'Should we bring the 7th Legion?' Kathryn asked, furrowing her brow into a frown. 'Only, it will take time for them to arrive if we do.'

'I'm not sure,' Lorna admitted. 'I don't want to have to pull them into this unless it's absolutely necessary, but the Forsaken could be doing something similar right as we speak.'

'Give it the rest of the week, then. If the situation starts to get worse, we'll send word.'

'I think that's probably the best option,' she agreed. 'Hillsbrad refugees have taken up residence in Fenris Keep. Father's going to try to convince them to inflict themselves with the Curse and join us.'

'That doesn't sound -'

'I know, the odds of them agreeing are little to none, but we've got to try. We have no other options for the moment.'

'Fenris Keep . . . that's in Silverpine, isn't it? Won't the Forsaken notice them?'

'That's what we're worried about . . .'

Kathryn chewed her lip, thinking. 'I could try to scout out their intentions. Aren't the leaders at the Sepulcher? I'll go and try to work out what's going on. There could be some useful information.'

Lorna shook her head furiously. 'No, no, no, no, no, no. You know what happened last time we sent scouts there. If you went on your own you'd be slaughtered. I'm not having that. No, I think it's best if we start moving as quickly as possible. A small group will be sent to the Keep, but our main focus is still annihilating the important encampments. Unless . . .'

There was a pause.

'Unless, what?' Kathryn eventually asked, having a slight feeling that she would not like the answer.

'Unless Sylvanas is there,' Lorna finished grimly. 'Then we truly stand no chance.'

* * *

 **10/10/15**


	6. Names

**New character being introduced this chapter . . .**

 **Enjoy! (and maybe chuck me a review, too?)**

* * *

 _ **6 – Names**_

 **Kathryn**

 _Sylvanas._

It was a name that triggered a unique kind of hated in Kathryn. It was a name that made her literally start to twitch. It was a name that made her want to do the opposite of giving up.

It made her want to fight.

It made her want to hurt.

It made her want to be the one to kill that woman as painfully as possible, giving her but a fraction of the pain Kathryn had felt in the moment her arrow had pierced Liam through the heart.

There was nothing she wanted more than that.

 _Stand no chance, her arse._

Kathryn would give them that chance. And using it, they would _win._ She wasn't backing down. Not now.

'We're going to have to fight her eventually,' Kathryn finally forced out, nearly choking on her own words. 'The sooner we do, the more convenient it is for me, anyway.'

Lorna gave her a sharp look. 'Don't you _dare_ go looking for that woman.'

Kathryn returned her most stubborn expression, which turned into a staring match that lasted at least a minute. Lorna wasn't backing down, however, and folded her arms. It seemed that she was trying to be the bigger person in this situation, and unfortunately, it was working. Kathryn eventually caved, and started looking somewhere near her feet. Whenever they had arguments like this, Lorna always behaved in a manner that made Kathryn feel like a petulant child, and she almost always won.

Rule of life: Never try to win a fight with a Crowley. You will lose miserably.

' _Fine_ ,' Kathryn groaned, casting her head back in frustration. 'I won't go.' _But that doesn't mean_ she _won't find_ me _._

Lorna gave her a suspicious look, before returning to the reports she had been scanning over before. That didn't last long, however. She sighed heavily and looked back up at her friend.

'I know how much she hurt you, Kathryn. And you have the right to hate her. But she's dangerous. If you took her on by yourself, no matter how capable you are, she would butcher you.' She paused for a moment, before adding, 'I think she would make you suffer more than Liam did. She's sadistic. She wouldn't just kill you outright. It would be . . . drawn out.'

'I know,' Kathryn muttered, her voice a little gravelly. 'But I feel like I have to do something.' She sat in silence for a while, trying to arrange the numerous thought-processes going through her head all at once. 'Have you . . . have you ever been driven by something _so_ powerful, that you can't focus on much else at all?'

Lorna didn't reply. Her brow furrowed into a frown, and she rolled up the paper she was holding before setting it down.

Kathryn decided it was easiest just to continue. 'Because I think that's what will happen if I ever see her again. I won't have any other purpose. I'll just be a living, breathing . . . _thing_ , hell-bent on revenge. I . . . I'm not sure if I want that to happen.'

Lorna seemed to be studying her. 'Kathryn, you have every right to feel like this, just . . .' She paused, and sighed. 'Don't let it control you. Terrible things happen to the best of people if they let that happen. Take Arthas, for example.'

Kathryn chewed her lip as she tried to remember what little information she knew about the former prince of Lordaeron. He chased a dreadlord all the way to Northrend, killed it, and in an attempt to save his land, took up a cursed blade and became one of the Lich King's most vital pawns.

He was dead now.

'Do you think I would go to that level because of all this?' Kathryn asked quietly.

'I'm not saying you won't try,' Lorna replied. 'You're strong, Kathryn. Too strong. Make sure you let it go before things fall apart.'

Kathryn felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, like someone was watching her. She looked up suddenly, toward the edge of the encampment to see a man, somewhere in his forties, leaning against a pile of crates and frowning like he was trying to evaluate her. Kathryn watched him in return, and after a moment his multi-coloured eyes, the exact tonal-value of which she couldn't decipher yet, flicked up to meet hers and he turned away.

Lorna had realised her attention had turned elsewhere. 'What is it?'

Kathryn wrinkled her nose in a slight state of annoyance and confusion, before turning back to her friend. 'Nothing.'

* * *

She couldn't find the man again after that. Not that she was prioritising it or anything, but she found that fact a little odd. That was, until she joined another strike force later that night and completely forgot about him.

Darius left for Fenris Keep just before dawn the next morning. Kathryn got back just in time to see him off, despite being bruised, battered and very bloody. He told her and Lorna that he had no idea how long he would be gone, as the people from Hillsbrad generally proved to be very stubborn. Until he returned, Lorna would be completely in charge of the Liberation Front.

'Watch for assassins,' he said gruffly, pulling his daughter into a hug. Lorna looked tiny in comparison to him, but in all honesty, everyone did. She nodded against his chest, pushing a small satchel of salves and healing potions into his hands as she did so.

'Send for help if the Forsaken become too oppressive,' she said, drawing away. 'We'll come.' She nodded to Kathryn and herself in indication.

Darius shook his head. 'I need you here. We'll be overrun otherwise. If the Magistrate proves to be difficult, we may have to resort to . . . other measures.' He straightened, gave Kathryn a brief, one-armed hug, and pocketed the package Lorna had given him. 'I will see you when I get back. Goodbye.'

'Bye,' Lorna replied, and Kathryn echoed the gesture.

And then he was gone.

'What are we going to do now?' Kathryn muttered, sitting down. 'Wait it out?'

'It looks like it,' Lorna agreed. 'On-the-spot decisions, I suppose.'

' _Great._ ' She sighed, albeit a little heavily. 'As long as we aren't sitting ducks, I suppose I can deal with that.'

Lorna gave her a wry smile. 'Is that wanderlust coming back, Kathryn?'

'No.'

'You sure?'

She laughed a little. 'Even _I_ don't know.'

'Miss Crowley.' They both looked up to see Tobias standing before them, a pack slung over his shoulder. Lorna tensed immediately, but she gave him her attention.

'Yes?' she asked after a moment of pause. Unlike every other time Kathryn had seen them interact, Lorna didn't tell him off for being formal. Her mind was obviously too distracted to care.

'Might I speak with you a moment?'

She gave Kathryn an anxious look which clearly said _what do I do?_ Kathryn made a nudging motion with her head, indicating for her to go.

'I'll catch up with you in a bit,' she added out loud, getting to her feet. 'See you, Tobias.'

'Goodbye, Kathryn.'

Completely ignoring the look of alarm that crossed Lorna's face at her friend's abandonment, Kathryn quite happily swanned off, leaving them to their own devices. If Lorna decided to use that rather intelligent brain of hers, maybe should would actually try to fix things. But, if she didn't, Kathryn was most likely going to have to give her a little nudge.

She went in the general, vague direction of a cluster of men sitting around by the tents, and tossed herself down on the ground, picking a few long strands of grass and braiding them together. She entertained herself by doing that for a good five minutes, and felt a little pleased that Lorna hadn't come to find her yet.

'You Crowley's daughter?'

Kathryn looked up suddenly at the voice which had come somewhere from her right, and found herself looking at the man from yesterday. She quirked a single eyebrow. 'No.'

The corner of his mouth jumped a little. 'Seems like it.'

She paused. 'Well . . . he's sort of my adoptive father, if that means anything.'

He scuffed his muddy boots against a clump of weeds, before deciding to park himself on the ground beside her, far enough away that it was a comfortable distance. Kathryn finally got a chance to properly look at him.

He had sandy blonde hair, and a structured, good natured face that blatantly said he was handsome in his earlier years. She still couldn't tell whether his eyes were blue or green, but she wasn't exactly trying too hard, so that was to be expected. Something seemed vaguely familiar about him, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. She might have seen him around Gilneas when she was younger, but then again, that didn't seem quite right.

'You're not Gilnean, are you?'

He seemed amused by her bluntness. 'No. But you don't seem to be, either.'

'I'm half,' she responded. 'But I grew up there.'

'With your family?'

'No.' She paused for a moment, before adding: 'My family's gone.'

'I'm sorry,' he replied, but it didn't sound like the typical apology Kathryn usually got – the standard, automatic response. It was something that bugged her to no end, so she rarely brought the subject up.

She shrugged offhandedly. 'Not your fault. _You_ didn't kill Mum, did you?' The tone was a little joking, but the man raised his eyebrows.

'I didn't get your name before.'

'I didn't get yours.'

He sighed a little. 'Mine is unimportant.' At her almost deadpan expression, he continued, 'I left it behind, a long time ago.'

'Mine doesn't matter either,' she responded immediately, giving him a look. 'I'm not even sure what it is, anymore.' There was a short moment of silence, before she spoke again. 'If this isn't even your home, then why are you helping to fight for it? There's nothing in it for you, is there?'

He gave her an evaluating look as he replied. 'I'm keeping a promise.'

She cocked her head a little. 'Am I allowed to inquire what sort of promise that is?'

'An old one.'

He was talking, but not enough to reveal his entire life story to her. Kathryn could respect that. He seemed to be a sensible man, among other things.

'If your family is here no longer, then why are you fighting?' he asked, adjusting his position as he did so.

Kathryn rolled out her shoulders. 'For my land. My friends.' She paused for a moment. 'My son.'

He looked surprised at that piece of information. 'You're a mother.' It wasn't a question. Just immediate acceptance.

'Yeah.' A small smile pulled on the corner of her mouth. 'He's just about two now.'

'Pardon me if this seems forward, but you look quite young.'

Kathryn chewed her lip and didn't reply. This was something a lot of people always seemed to notice. Oh, you've lost your lover. You also have a child. Okay. _How old are you?_

Not old enough.

Eventually she gave a small exhale, and nodded. 'Well, yeah. I suppose. But I get that a lot, so . . .' She trailed off and shuffled uncomfortably, absently fiddling with the grass braid.

'I see,' he replied. And before Kathryn could properly register it, he got to his feet. 'I will be going, then. Matters to attend to. Farewell.'

'W-wait -' Kathryn tossed the grass to the side and tried to stumble up. Her legs were numb from keeping still for too long, and she put her hands out in front of her, before trying to caterpillar-walk to her feet. It didn't work, as she tottered off sideways and landed sharply on her hip. After the initial impact, she slipped back onto her backside and let out a noise of frustration.

The man was gone.

'You don't _have_ . . . to go . . .' she muttered. With a heavy sigh, she flopped back into the grass and closed her eyes, feeling annoyance bubble in her chest.

Damn it, whenever she didn't want to talk about something, she either turned hostile or looked really miserable. Every time, without fail, her facial expression would send whatever company she had in the other direction.

It was a curse, really. If she'd just _get over it . . ._

* * *

 **Lorna**

There was a long moment of silence. Lorna and Tobias just looked at each other, neither able to say anything. When she felt that it had dragged on for so long that it was more than painful, Lorna finally broke it.

'What's that for?' She nodded in the direction of his pack.

He spared it a quick glance before replying, 'I'm leaving with a small scouting group for a few days. We're travelling with Darius until the halfway point between the Keep, then we're splitting off and observing some of the smaller Forsaken outposts.'

All that managed to come out of Lorna's mouth in response was a small, 'Oh.'

'It's only a few days,' he repeated. 'Not long enough that anything bad can result from it.'

'You don't know that.'

He paused, then seemed to agree with her. 'No, I don't. But I don't think it will.'

'You don't need to keep reassuring me,' Lorna replied. 'It will be fine.'

'Exactly.'

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. 'Well, it that's all you wanted to talk about -'

'I was just going to say goodbye,' he said, cutting over her. 'If you'll let me,' he added after a second.

Lorna's brow creased into a frown. 'Let you? _Let you?_ Tobias, I don't have _any_ say over what you can and can't do, so -'

'Yes, you do, Miss,' he replied. 'You have every say.'

Lorna made a funny noise and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. 'Drop the formalities, Tobias. You know it annoys me.'

If anything, the smallest of smiles tugged on the corner of his mouth. 'I'm being a gentleman, _Lorna_.'

The tone he said it in triggered a tiny laugh to escape her mouth, and it took all the control she had to quickly diminish it.

He began to extend his hand toward her, but seemed to think better of it, and it quickly dropped back to his side.

Lorna secretly wished he hadn't.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat and dipped his head a little. 'Well, I guess I'll be off then, Miss Crowley. See you in a few days.'

He turned to leave.

'Wait!' Lorna cried, letting instinct take over, springing forward and seizing his hand. 'What sort of a goodbye was that?'

'A short one,' he replied. 'Ma'am, I really need to go.'

' _Stop that!_ '

He paused, but after a moment, ever so slowly turned back to her. He had barely done that when she reached out and pulled him into a tight hug, burying her face somewhere amidst his chest. Tobias was stiff for a moment, but then he tentatively (or was it reluctantly?) returned the gesture, letting his chin rest on the top of her head.

'Look after yourself, you hear me?' Lorna said, forcing herself to pull away. 'Because if something happens, I swear . . .'

He gave a mock salute. 'Will do, Miss Crowley.'

She sighed, but didn't bother to reprimand this time. 'Good.'

'I'd best be going, now. Can't wait much longer.'

Lorna grudgingly nodded. 'Okay. Fine. I'll . . . see you in a few days.'

He nodded in promise. 'A few days.'

* * *

Lorna didn't bother to go and find Kathryn. Instead she went back to her tent and sat in the middle of the floor, turning a knife over in her hands. Kathryn had given her the blade a long time ago, when they were still early in their teenage years, and before she had taken off to the streets. It had been one of her favourites, and because of that, Lorna hadn't let it out of her sight since. It was a simple blade, really, but it was still as sharp as the day she had received it; mainly due to disuse.

Lorna hadn't truly needed it yet. She preferred guns, really. However, her father's warning about assassins had stuck in her mind, and she had a feeling that might soon change.

Ten minutes later, Kathryn found her.

'Have you been here all this time?' she asked, her brow creasing into a frown.

Lorna shook her head. 'Not that long.' She paused, then added, 'Tobias wanted to say goodbye.'

She sat down beside her. 'Where is he going?'

'Scouting. Only for a few days, though.'

'Are you talking again?'

She shrugged offhandedly. 'I suppose.'

Kathryn chewed her bottom lip. 'Define "suppose".'

' . . . We're on better terms than yesterday, or last week, or any period of time before twenty minutes ago.'

Kathryn sighed, and shook her head dramatically. 'That's better than nothing, I guess.'

Lorna made a vague noise of agreement.

* * *

 **Kathryn**

The next three days were uneventful. Lorna wasn't going to send out any attack groups until Tobias had returned with whatever information he had collected, and Kathryn agreed with that.

So now they waited.

The two women sparred for most of the day, since they both wanted to distract themselves from what might be happening outside their small camp. Kathryn grudgingly introduced Lorna to Sam, and he flirted shamelessly – that was, until Kathryn socked him in the arm so hard that it left a horse-bite mark. To say he was miffed was an understatement.

Lorna didn't talk about Tobias.

Kathryn didn't talk about Tobias.

Neither of them dared to mention Darius.

On the fourth day however, something happened.

'Poison.'

'Definitely.'

' _How?_ '

'I don't know.'

Lorna, Kathryn, and two other men were surrounding a corpse towards the edge of the camp, trying to comprehend how this had happened without anyone noticing.

'How long has he been dead?' Kathryn asked, looking up. She was kneeling beside the body, scanning it for any signs of injury. So far she had found none. The only proof she had that it was poison was that the man had been foaming at the mouth just before his death.

'I'm assuming an hour,' one of the others replied.

'But how did they get it into his system?' she muttered, her brow creasing into a frown. His chest was arching slightly in an unnatural way, so she rolled him over onto his stomach.

Bingo.

There, broken, but most definitely the cause, was an arrow embedded deep into his back, just beside the spine.

Straight through the heart.

'Poison arrows!' Lorna muttered in realisation, kneeling down beside Kathryn to get a closer look. 'They're going to pick us off, one by one from afar!'

Kathryn sat back on her haunches, feeling sick. She gingerly reached out and ripped the arrow from the man's body. It was ruined and bloody, and the barbed head tore away a small amount of flesh with it. Dragging the cuff of her sleeve over her hand, Kathryn wiped the redness away to reveal that the projectile was stained black.

There was no doubt about it now.

Lorna's eyes flitted between the arrow and Kathryn's face, and her brow creased a little. 'Are you okay?'

Kathryn didn't respond. She swallowed gingerly and pocketed the shattered object, staring somewhere to the left.

Lorna leaned forward and shook her by the shoulder. ' _Kathryn._ '

'I – I'm fine.'

The expression on Lorna's face clearly said _no, you aren't_ , but she didn't push. She knew why Kathryn was reacting this way.

She'd had a bad history with poisoned arrows.

Kathryn got to her feet, and brushed herself off, telling them she would be back to help dispose of the body in a minute. She walked off, trying to give off a calm and composed air.

The second she was out of sight, she fell onto her knees and vomited.

* * *

'The scouting group is back!'

The body had disappeared beneath the freshly turned earth only minutes ago, and to distract herself from it, Kathryn had climbed one of the taller pine trees for a proper look around. In the distance she had seen three worgen running on all fours towards the camp, and she's recognised Tobias after only a moment of intense scrutiny.

Lorna brushed the dry dirt that caked her hands onto her trousers and used her foot to pat down the mound atop the grave.

'His name was James Whitley,' she said, looking grim. 'He had a wife and four small children in Stormwind.'

'Send them a notice when the next ship returns.'

'I know. Along with several others.'

A number of Gilneans had died in the last two weeks alone. Lorna was stuck with writing letters to their families, and Kathryn pitched in when she could, considering that she knew what it felt like. It was miserable work, but it had to be done.

Kathryn stuck out her hand. 'Come on. He'll want to see you.'

Lorna barely had time to scoff before she was being dragged through the forest back to the camp. They arrived just as the other two worgen bounded into sight, panting heavily. They transformed right before Tobias himself appeared. He morphed into his human form and straightened up, looking around. Kathryn dragged Lorna over to him, and he inclined his head, despite the fact that he was still trying to catch his breath.

'Miss . . . Miss Crowley.'

' _Stop it_.' She was clearly trying to put up an irritable and unimpressed façade, but Kathryn could see her eyes were shining. 'Report?'

'There is little happening at Ambermill, so we travelled north-west to Olsen's Farthing. They're -'

He cut off suddenly and let out a yell of pain, half a second after Kathryn detected a small, whizzing noise coming in their direction. He dropped to his knees, his hand fumbling towards his shoulder, where a long, black-feathered arrow had just impaled itself.

* * *

 **26/10/15**


	7. Desperate Measures

**Sorry about the wait. -_-**

* * *

 _ **7 – Desperate Measures **_

**Kathryn**

Seconds later, four other men fell like ragdolls, two with punctures to the chest region. Lorna reacted with lightning reflexes, diving forward to catch as many people as she could and get them lying safely on the ground. Kathryn whirled in the direction that the arrows had come from, and a second later her knife had left her hand, flying towards a tree not far from the one she had just been up.

There was the sound of the knife impaling bone, and a Forsaken man fell from one of the higher branches with the blade straight through the centre of his skull.

'Tobias! _Tobias!_ Say something, you idiot man!' Lorna's unusually desperate voice grabbed Kathryn's attention, and she whirled back around to see her leaning over his violently trembling body on the ground.

' _Shit._ '

Lorna looked up, and her face was white. 'Kathryn!'

'Fine, move! And bring the others over here!' She dropped to Tobias' side and got a proper look at the wound. The flesh around it was already starting to become streaked with black.

'They're poisoned! They're the same arrows as before. I won't be able to pull them out, because they're barbed and in too deep. I'm going to have to push it through.' She looked at Lorna for confirmation, and the other woman seemed to agree. A group who were more professionally trained in this area went to help the other men; particularly the ones with the torso damage. Kathryn however, had gone into possessive mode and wouldn't let anyone else deal with Tobias.

'Put some pressure here. I need to avoid the bone. When I say so, help me push down here -' She tapped the base of the shaft which wasn't embedded in the wound. '- and thread it through.'

Lorna seemed to steel herself with some sort of internal resolve and nodded. Tobias groaned, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. His forehead began to become beaded with sweat, and a second, more strangled sound left his throat.

Kathryn grabbed another knife from inside her boot and cut off the end of the arrow with the feathers, before pressing her fingers down on the area where it was impaled. Lorna helped her, and taking advantage of that extra pressure, she focused on the arrow instead. Preparing to put all of her weight into the pads of her fingertips, Kathryn shifted to her knees, and leant so she was hovering over Tobias.

'Prop him up a little. It needs somewhere to come out of.'

Lorna lifted him up so his head and the upper half of his torso was resting on her thighs, and the back of his shoulder was off the ground.

'Okay – now.'

In one swift motion, Kathryn put all of her weight into her fingers, pushing the arrow through with a sickening noise. Tobias roared in pain, starting to thrash about violently. Lorna somehow managed to shift one leg out from beneath his body and used her foot to pin down his other hand, keeping him from accidently sending Kathryn flying while she focused on keeping the rest of him still. Kathryn screwed up her face and used her shoulders to apply more force, as the arrow had become stuck somewhere in his muscle tissue. It began moving again, and the second the tip poked through, Lorna started to pull from the other end, her fingers constantly slipping due to the blood that was gushing out.

'Don't cut yourself!' Kathryn warned, and with one final shove, the projectile slid out of the wound.

'Go get anything that might work to counter the poison,' Lorna said, now taking over. Poison was more her area of expertise rather than Kathryn's, as during their younger years she'd had to help several of the rebels whenever they suffered injury. Kathryn quickly complied and got to her feet, sprinting toward the first-aid tent.

After using a nearby axe-head to lever the top of a crate open, Kathryn began rummaging through the various bottles of salves and serums, looking for something that looked remotely like it would be useful. Since she knew absolutely _nothing_ about alchemy, she grabbed the lot.

What she wouldn't give to have Krennan Aranas here right now.

Lorna began sifting through the vials the second she got back, tossing most of them to the side before stopping at one which was filled with a red, slightly glowing liquid. She uncorked it and forced a reasonable amount down Tobias' throat, before passing it off to Kathryn and looking again. She grabbed two more paste-like serums, purple and dark grey respectively, and applied them to the wound.

'Is this _all_ we've got?' she cried, once she'd double checked everything they had. Tobias now seemed to be slipping into unconsciousness. Kathryn nodded.

'There wasn't much there,' she admitted. 'We're running out.'

Lorna swore viciously, and Kathryn handed the substances they had used to the healers in the hope they would be of some use.

'Priests!' Lorna hissed. 'None of those useless idiots are actually _here!_ '

Kathryn's head snapped around. ' _What?_ '

'No priests.' Those two words came out in a groan, and Lorna bowed her head. 'This is the best I can do with what we've got. And Light only knows how the others are doing . . .'

Her unasked question was answered immediately.

'Miss Crowley, we've done the best that we can.' One of the healers was standing over the two of them, and he looked grim. 'We've lost the two with the chest damage. The arrows went straight through their hearts. For the others, we've done our best to delay the poison, but we can't do much else until we get access to better treatment.'

Lorna made a frustrated noise. 'But what if this happens to anyone else? We'll lose too many men!'

It was then that Kathryn made a split-second decision. 'I'll go,' she said, standing up. 'The nearest allied city is Ironforge. I'll go and see if I can find something there.'

Lorna glared at her. 'Even if that _wasn't_ a stupid idea, _how_ would you manage that in time, Kathryn?'

Kathryn glared right back. She was sick of being stowed away and not allowed to help – she'd be damned if Lorna didn't let her do something this time. 'We may have no transport, but the Forsaken do. I can steal one of their riding bats.'

'No, it's too dangerous! I'm not going to risk losing you, Kathryn!'

'And what about _him?'_ Kathryn stuck out a shaking hand and pointed at Tobias' limp form, gritting her teeth. 'What if you lose him? I know for a fact that _I_ don't want him to die, so I'm going to do something about it, damn it!'

Lorna froze, a kaleidoscope of emotions crossing her face all at once: anger, fear, sadness, regret, and pain. Kathryn immediately regretted the harshness of her words, but didn't back down. Chest heaving, she strode forward and firmly grabbed Lorna by the wrists, looking straight at her.

'Let me try. Please.'

Seconds passed. Kathryn didn't care that they seemed to have gathered a collection of onlookers, and gave her friend a little shake. Finally, Lorna exhaled.

' _Why? Why_ do you want to risk it?'

'I just – it's –' Kathryn broke off and ran a hand down her face, squeezing her eyes shut. 'The _last_ thing I want is for all these people to die. Especially him. I don't want you to have to go through that.'

'We don't know if he's going to die just yet.' She swallowed lightly. 'He may yet pull through.'

Kathryn responded with a stony look. 'It's poisoned. Stop lying to yourself.'

Her mouth tightened. 'Who says I'm lying for my sake?'

'Well I'll be damned if it's for _mine_.'

'Maybe it's for both of ours.'

'These are hard times, Lorna. We can't afford to sugar-coat anything.'

'I know.' Lorna drew her shoulders back and raised her chin slightly. 'But I wish we could.'

'Let me go.' Kathryn reached out and laced their forefingers together, giving her a pleading look. The other woman seemed to let out a silent sigh, and bit the inside of her lip.

'There has to be another way. You'd be mad to just waltz into a Forsaken camp and take off with one of their bats.'

'Look, I've learned to let _you_ do insane things. Remember those cannons when we were fourteen?'

Her lip twitched as the memory came to her. The two of them had run off with one of Darius' heavy artillery cannons and nearly blown up the Trade Square. 'That was different. We were together. If you're going to go, I'm coming with you.'

'You can't leave him.'

The action seemed involuntary, but Lorna's eyes flicked back to Tobias for a split second. Anyone who didn't know better would think he was simply comatose, but both the woman could see the pain that lined his handsome face.

It seemed that looking at him again was what finally convinced her. Lorna tucked a stray, black lock of hair behind her ear, and turned back to Kathryn.

'Fine. But this isn't _just_ for Tobias. And I swear to the Light itself, if anything happens to you -'

'I know.'

* * *

'Take this over to Deathstalker Belmont. Tell him the next shipment's just arrived from the Undercity.' The bony, half-rotted bat handler gave a scroll of parchment to a soldier, and turned back to unloading a number of crates from the back of the large bat next to him. As he unlatched a strap holding them on, one of the steel bolts sprung off and clocked another one of the bats on the head. The creatures which were hanging upside down from the ginormous meat rack all squawked and shuffled uncomfortably, visibly glaring at the man. He ignored them and turfed the crates onto the ground, before prying open their tops and doing a stock-check.

Kathryn, who was hiding in the bushes only a few metres away, shifted in her squatting position, moving from side to side on the balls of her feet. She had been watching this guy for little over half an hour, but he wasn't turning his back on his beloved riding bats.

She was more than a little tempted to smash him over the head and be done with it.

Sadly, that would attract attention. So, no, she had to be patient. She had scoped out the distance between herself and the nearest bat, and had come to a decision on how difficult all obstacles would be to navigate around successfully. She was making constant head-counts on the number of Horde members in the vicinity, and while doing so, had spotted a handy piece of rope she could nick not too far away. All she had to do now was the actual stealing.

Finally, the moment came that she had been waiting for. The crate that the bat handler had just opened was massive, and in order to see the contents down the bottom, he just about had to get inside. Bent over double, he leaned in, and his top half completely vanished from view.

 _Opportunity_.

Quieter than a mouse, Kathryn slipped out from her hiding place and crept over to where he had deposited the lid. It had been wrenched off with a crowbar, and the nails were still half-driven into the wood. Kathryn picked up both items and stood just behind him, a smirk creeping on her lips. Then, with a sudden shove, she sent him toppling completely into the crate.

The man let out a yell, but as soon as she could Kathryn shoved the lid on, effectively muffling the sound. Straight afterwards she smacked the nails down with the crowbar, sealing it.

That was too easy.

Unfortunately, she'd been a little noisier than she'd first thought. Someone over to her left let out a yell, and Kathryn whirled around to see an orc sprinting towards her. It took a moment, but Kathryn actually recognised her.

It was the admiral she had tossed off one of the boats they had burned a couple of weeks ago.

And she was _mad_.

Kathryn let out a squeak that was rather undignified and dove for the coil of rope. Hastily scooping it up, she ran to the bat which had just been unloaded and vaulted onto its back. The bat screeched and its back dipped a little violently at Kathryn's sudden weight addition. Kathryn cut the remainder of the crates out of their leather strapping and shoved them off, just as the orc reached her.

An axe had sliced the back of her calf before she could even react. And Light, it _hurt_. Kathryn yelled in pain and kicked out reflexively, smashing the orc in the nose and sending blood flying. Spooked by the sudden aggressiveness, the bat screeched again and took off.

With a scream, Kathryn fell forward and wrapped her arms tightly around the creature's neck. Her pack shifted up her back and hit her on the back of the head. The throbbing in her left leg rather blatantly told her to get a grip on things and sort herself out, so she let out an unsteady exhale and started unravelling the rope. Fashioning it into a crude halter, she slipped a loop over the creature's head, and coiled the reins around her wrists. Since she didn't trust her own balance, she made another loop around her waist.

Seconds after she had done this, arrows were whizzing past her head. Kathryn tucked her legs well out of their range, and after a moment's thought, brought her left ankle up so it was resting on the other knee. Then she slipped off her pack and rummaged through it, before bringing out a roll of bandaging.

As far as she could tell, the wound wasn't poisoned, and it wasn't deep enough to damage any muscles or tendons. It just hurt like an absolute bugger, and would probably give her a slight limp for the next few days. With a sigh and a shake of the head, she dealt with it quickly and finally took into consideration where they were heading.

North.

'Wrong _way_ , you stupid bat!' she hissed, using the reins in an attempt to turn it around. 'South. Go _south!_ '

It made a noise she was pretty sure meant something offensive in bat-speak, and shuffled its shoulders a bit, making Kathryn bob up and down. After a few minutes of intensive persuasion, it finally turned.

It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

Several times throughout the trip, the bat seemed to have a change of heart and tried to throw her off. All this did was annoy Kathryn to no end, and test her ability to hold on. The closer they got to the mountains, the colder the weather got. As they passed over the Wetlands and finally started travelling upwards towards the snow, Kathryn had to pull on all of the additional layers she had brought in her pack, until she was thick enough that she could have passed for a relatively skinny dwarf. She was definitely small enough. Problem was, she was still cold.

Kathryn had seen snow up close before. She had only seen it at a distance during the winter in Gilneas, so flying right over the top of it was closer than she had ever been. Unfortunately, looking down was giving her vertigo and it made her stomach feel rather weak. The discomfort the bat caused wasn't helping that.

Finally, after several hours, she finally saw something that gave her hope. The huge, stone front part of a structure was jutting out of one of the mountains, with _dwarf city_ practically written all over it. Either this was Ironforge, or Kharanos was bigger than everyone gave it credit for. With a bit of jostling and prodding, the bat reluctantly went in that direction. It could clearly sense that it was in enemy territory, and was trying to convince Kathryn to go well away.

She ignored it.

Bats knew nothing, anyway.

As she got closer, she could see dwarves bustling in and out of the enormous doorway, going about their business. There were wagons and caravans just beside the path running up the mountain, some carrying goods, and others for the transportation of livestock – which, apparently, were mountain goats. The path snaked down the side of the mountain, and out in the distance Kathryn could see it leading to a tiny town.

She'd finally made it. Now all she had to do was land this damned creature. When she was right above the path, the bat became genuinely agitated and started to make a sound that seemed to be almost like a whine. It kept halting and staying in mid-air, looking around and clearly panicking at what it saw.

'Move your arse!' Kathryn hissed, nudging its sides with her ankles. 'Go on!'

It took her a second, but she finally realised the possible result of being atop the bat. And she'd figured it out too late.

' _FORSAKEN!'_

Her eyes widened and she swore, trying to peer over the bat's head and see what was going on below them. She jerked back immediately at the sound of a deafening bang, just as a bullet whizzed past her head.

* * *

 **13/11/15**


	8. The City of the Dwarves

__**I'm sick and miserable. Hi.**

* * *

 _ **8 – The City of the Dwarves**_

 **Kathryn**

She was _so_ screwed. With an unflattering shriek, she pulled furiously on the bat's reins, trying to turn it away. It all too happily complied, and made a beeline for a clump of snow-coated trees somewhere below them. Gunfire rang out behind her, and Kathryn ducked as she heard more bullets whizzing past.

'I'm not gonna kill you, damn it!' she cried. 'Stop shooting at me – _argh!'_

The bat let out a harsh scream as one of the bullets made impact, tearing a horrible, bloody hole through its right wing. Kathryn yelled again as it spiralled, taking her down with it. The animal was definitely panicking now – it was flapping as furiously as it could with the left wing, but it seemed that crucial nerves had been damaged in the other. It flopped about uselessly as they tumbled towards the ground.

They were now heading straight into the side of the mountain. Using what strength she had, Kathryn tried to shove them forward with sharp, repetitive motions so they would land in the snow. Sadly, it didn't seem to be working. She knew absolutely nothing about physics, and right now she was really wishing that she _did_.

The shooting hadn't stopped. The dwarves clearly still thought she was one of those undead bastards, and were making their best efforts to blow her out of the sky completely. Making an anxious, yet frustrated noise in the back of her throat, Kathryn quickly pulled the rope over the bat's head and tried to use it as a pulley to make the broken wing start functioning again. As it was lifted again, more wind resistance was created, and their descent slowed a little.

That was, until several holes were made in the other wing. The bat screeched again, protectively drawing in both of the wings. Kathryn was nearly thrown off sideways as the rope was tugged out of her hands, and she swore viciously when she saw it tumble down to the ground.

Now she was in trouble.

All she could think to do was to wrap her arms around the creature's neck and hold on for dear life. Bullet after bullet tore through the bat's limbs, and one grazed its shoulder, narrowly missing Kathryn's head. Finally, one caught her in the back of the calf – the same one that had been cut open a couple of hours ago. She screamed as the sudden shock tipped her sideways. Since the pain was so blinding, she fell straight off the back of the bat and plummeted towards the mountain.

Her leg felt like it was freezing over. The blood's exposure to the air was letting the cold penetrate the ripped skin, and she could feel herself going numb. The fall felt like it was happening in slow motion – she could see the powdery snow glittering like tiny crystals, the dark green pine trees contrasting against it dramatically. She could also see the dwarves that were shooting at her. They were dressed in bulky, green cloaks – or, for all she knew, that was their natural stature. They could be cold resistant or something, and she'd never find out.

 _Never find out._

The fall was going to kill her. She knew that the second she slipped over the side. She wasn't an idiot. The mountainside she was hurtling towards was made up of rock, and she had to be falling from over fifty feet. She would hit the rock face with an awful noise, before her broken body tumbled down the mountain to the ground so far below. And so would end the story of Kathryn Weiss. A woman who died trying to save those she loved – something which never, ever went to her favour. The world didn't work that way. If Kathryn had something she wanted to keep, she lost it. That was the way fate wanted to run things. That was the way it always had been.

Maybe she would get to see Liam again.

Kathryn had absolutely no idea what happened after death. She had never been particularly fussed on dedicating her life to the Light, and she had no idea what that elvish "Elune" business was all about. But, what she hoped was that the dead all met up in the end, somewhere. That was all she could ask for at the moment. If the universe owed her anything – anything at _all_ – it was that.

The thought made her smile.

She wasn't far now. Twenty feet, ten feet, five –

 _Wham!_

Kathryn was barrelled sideways as something warm, bloody and fuzzy wrapped itself protectively around her before she hit the cliff. With a thump, they landed in the soft, powdery snow, and Kathryn's saviour curled even more tightly around her.

She squeezed her eyes shut before tentatively opening them.

It was the bat.

That dratted bat, who she was positively convinced _hated_ her, had just kept her from death. And she had no idea why.

It was clearly dying. With a strange squeaking noise, it nuzzled its nose into her hair. Kathryn gently touched its paw, which was holding her shoulder in a death grip, and made a startled noise when it let out a quiet wail.

'Shh,' she said in a soothing tone, gently reaching up to stroke the creature's face. 'Shh . . .'

It was the least she could do.

With a sound reminiscent of a cat's purr, it folded its ruined, bloody wing over the two of them like a blanket. It then started making awful coughing noises, spraying Kathryn with blood and startling her. Most of the bones in its body were probably broken from the fall. Either that, or the bullets must have punctured a vital organ.

'Shh . . .' She tried to shift, so she could stand up and help it, but the bat tightened its grip and made a squeaking noise. It didn't want her to move. Trying to avoid upsetting it in the last moments of its life, Kathryn let it have its way. She could feel its waning heartbeat on her back. It was almost calming, and she exhaled slowly. She felt an intense wave of fatigue crash over her, and her eyes tried their best to flutter shut against her will.

The sound of voices wafted over the snowdrift in front of them. Kathryn stiffened in fear, and moved a little closer to the bat. She cautiously peered over the edge of its wing and watched.

'But whaddya think they were doin' so far down 'ere, eh?'

'Can't say, laddie. Haven' seen their sort 'round these parts in my lifetime.'

'Do yeh think they're plannin' an attack?'

' _Why?_ What stinkin' skeleton man, dead or no, would wan' ta live _here?_ '

'Yeh've got a point. But that wretch Sylvanas might be plannin' on extendin' her grip.'

'We haven't heard no news from the Wetlands. _We're_ only runnin' a risk of invasion if _they_ do.'

'They sneak up quickly, though. Yeh know what happened to Gilneas.'

' _No_ , those idiots only lost their land because they lived _too_ close to them undead bastards in the first place.'

'Well, I think – _Muradin's beard!_ '

Two dwarves had just appeared atop the snowdrift, and the first thing they saw was the broken, crumpled form of the bat. The one with the red beard turned around and yelled in the other direction, apparently in the direction of the rest of his group. 'Oi, lads! We've found it!'

'Tha's a big bat,' his friend - Black Beard – said. 'Where's his rider?'

Kathryn instinctively shrunk further beneath the bat's wing, and she remembered her injured leg when the movement caused it to flare up again.

'Hey, look.' Kathryn could just see movement through one of the bloodied holes, and Red Beard pointed towards the bat's head. It let out a feeble squeak as the dwarves trudged closer, and tightened its grip around Kathryn. 'There's some hair. Whaddya think's in there?'

'A wolpertinger,' Black Beard replied sarcastically. 'Whaddya think, yeh idiot? A _person_ , maybe?'

Kathryn internally cursed her overlong hair as she fought to keep her eyes open. Craning her head upwards, she could see that her ponytail was splayed everywhere all over the snow, right in plain sight.

Bugger.

'Make sure it doesn't bite,' Black Beard warned.

Red Beard shook his head. 'It's just about dead. Look.'

As if to prove his point, the bat squeaked again, before coughing up a little more blood. Kathryn winced as the bright red liquid sprayed the snow just above her head. Red Beard moved again, and before Kathryn could do anything about it, he tried to shift the wing.

The bat started making a horrible, protective wailing noise, which was constantly broken up by coughs and hacks. It curled up even tighter, and the dwarves made a noise of irritation.

'Definitely a female,' Black Beard grunted. 'Never seen a bloody bat _this_ defensive in me life.'

'What's she holding, then?' Red Beard muttered contemplatively. 'I don't think they're all tha' fond of dead people.'

'No . . .'

'C'mon, move, yeh bloody animal.'

But the bat didn't respond. The wail trailed off until the creature was silent, and Kathryn felt the heartbeat against her back begin to fade. Her eyes widened in alarm, but there was nothing she could do about it.

'It's dead, lad,' Black Beard said. 'It's not gonna do nothin' now.'

Red Beard made a noise of agreement, and together the two of them shifted the wing – all too quickly for Kathryn to prepare herself.

'Wha – blimey! _You're_ not undead! What're yeh doin' there, lass?'

Kathryn cringed as the bright sunlight hit her from every angle, and it took a moment for her shock to fade as she realised she wasn't going to get shot.

Oh, right. Dwarves were allies.

With a groan, she tentatively sat up, hissing as she shifted her leg.

'Yeh need ta see a healer,' Black Beard muttered, looking at the bloodied limb. He looked at his companion. 'Round up the lads.' With a nod, Red Beard trotted off.

'What're yeh _doin'_ here?' he asked again, helping Kathryn unsteadily to her feet.

'Well –' She cut off and winced in pain. '- I _was_ coming to Ironforge for some help. But, _someone_ shot me down.'

He grimaced. 'Sorry abou' that, lassie. But yeh see, from the ground yeh seemed like one of them Forsaken.'

'That's understandable,' she muttered, not really caring at the moment. 'Where's my pack?'

Black Beard looked around for a moment, before digging it out of the snow a couple of yards away. 'This one?'

She nodded, and gratefully slipped it on. Then she looked back at the dead bat lying in the snow beside her, and couldn't help but feel a little saddened.

'Where'd yeh get a bat from?' Black Beard asked, letting her use him as a crutch. It looked odd, really, because she honestly wasn't that much taller than him.

'Well . . . it's a long story.'

'Right, then. The name's Murgurn Thundermantle. I'd best get yeh back to Ironforge.'

'Kathryn Weiss. And yeah, that'd be great, thanks.'

'C'mon, then.'

As they gradually shuffled up the mountain towards the doorway of the colossal city, Kathryn relayed part of her story. She told him about the Liberation Front, and how they were struggling with the numbers they had to push back the Forsaken. This then led to the retelling of the poisoned arrows, and how she had to travel south in hope of finding a remedy before they lost too many men. Murgurn looked rather guilty when she reached the part where the dwarves had opened fire, which turned to shock when he learned that one of the men had actually _hit_ her. He immediately stopped and demanded to know where the injury was, and Kathryn grudgingly let him take a look at her calf. The bullet was in too deep for him to remove it there and then, but he was certain it hadn't shattered a bone. Kathryn agreed. She definitely would have been able to tell if that had happened. Fortunately, the bandaging that Kathryn had already applied over the axe wound had helped to stem the flow, along with the contribution of the cold. A good deal of ice had gotten stuck in the flesh when she had hit the ground, which had both numbed the soreness temporarily and kept back some of the blood.

She was mostly sure she wouldn't lose a limb because of it, anyway.

As they neared the doorway, two more dwarves rushed over to help, both female this time.

'We'll deal with her, Murgurn,' the one with dark hair and a sweet looking face said. 'You go find that Forsaken.'

Murgurn jabbed a thumb in Kathryn's direction. 'That was her. Stole a riding bat, she did.'

The woman looked at her with an expression akin to surprise, before shaking her head slightly. 'Alright, then. Well, I'll take her home and patch her up. Drop by Nyssa's and pick up some bandaging before yeh knock off for the day, would yeh? I think we're runnin' low.'

'Aye.' He patted Kathryn on the arm. 'Don' worry, yer in good hands, lass. I'll see yeh around.' With a nod to the three women, he regrouped with the other riflemen and disappeared from view.

'I'm Kareala,' the woman said, holding Kathryn firmly by the elbow to keep her steady. 'Murgurn's me husband. And this -' She gestured to the dwarf beside her; a brown haired woman with an almost similar looking face. '- is Gwannora Cliffshield, my sister. I'm just gonna bring yeh back to my place now; it's not far.'

Kathryn nodded, before wincing as she put weight onto her bad leg. 'I'm Kathryn. Kathryn – _nnrrrggg_ \- Weiss.'

'Come on, love,' Gwannora said, coming around to her other side and helping to support her. Kathryn felt her facial muscles relax as the pressure was eased off, and they headed in the direction of the colossal doorway. For the first time since she'd arrived, she could finally take in the scenery.

The entrance led to an open passage, where a small set of stairs led to a slightly higher level. At the end of the passage there was an enormous statue of a dwarf wielding a war hammer and an axe in either hand, wrought with gold.

The passage split off either way, seemingly designed to come out together into one large area. And that they did. They came into a huge, open, stone hall that seemed to be circular in shape, each side stretching out and curving around so far that Kathryn couldn't see either end. Before them, running straight through the middle of the walkway and acting somewhat like a canal, was a sharp drop off. Several feet below there was sturdy iron lattice, beneath which something was so hot that steam was obscuring it. Kathryn had to assume that this was the city's heating system, considering there didn't seem to be an official front door.

Set into all of the walls were a collection of staircases and front doors, along with a few open windows here and there. Signposts hung out the front of businesses and dwarves were bustling about, with a few other races scattered here and there. Kathryn almost did a double-take when she saw a draenei – an _actual_ draenei – talking with a night elf, clearly on serious business.

All in all, it was a friendly place. And believe it or not, for a city it seemed remarkably . . . cosy.

Kareala led her up the stairs to one of the houses and stuck a key in the front door, before nudging it open. Then she brought her inside and deposited her at a chair in front of the dining table, before disappearing. Gwannora sat down opposite Kathryn and brought her leg up into her lap, before stripping away the worgen's crude, makeshift bandaging, and a good chunk of her tattered trousers.

'We can replace these for yeh,' she reassured her, before setting the leftovers aside to use as scrap material. Kathryn honestly didn't care.

'Now, what's a pretty lass like you doin' so far from human lands?' she asked conversationally as she inspected the bullet wound.

'Well, that's the reason I came here in the first place. I . . . my people don't have any land at the moment.'

The brown-head looked up suddenly. 'Yer Gilnean? I didn't notice the accent before.'

Kathryn tried to give out a small smile, but it ended up more like a grimace. 'Yeah. We're trying to fight back the Forsaken, but it's proving to be a bit . . . _difficult_ , so to speak.'

'And are yeh still havin' problems with the Curse, too?' She was now looking at the axe wound and apparently trying to gauge how deep it was. She gently prodded the inflamed skin surrounding the injury, and as Kathryn hissed in pain, hastily apologised.

'Well, not _problems_ , I suppose,' Kathryn said carefully, wondering how on Azeroth the story had spread so far south when no one really tried to mention it. 'We can't cure it, but we can control it. Everyone who's inflicted can switch between forms, and they retain their own state of mind the entire time.'

'I see. You poor people really have it tough, don't yeh?'

She shrugged a little. 'I never really looked at it that way, but yeah, I suppose so.'

Just then Kareala reappeared with a small box of medical supplies. 'Alright, lass. Let's get yeh patched up, then.'

'It's best if yeh look away. This is goin' ta hurt, I'm afraid,' Gwannora said, getting up and coming to stand beside her. 'That bullet's in pretty damn deep.'

Kathryn winced at the thought. Kareala pulled an array of small, metal instruments out of the box, along with a roll of heavy linen bandaging and some rubbing alcohol, before sitting down on the chair her sister had just vacated. Then, with a tool that looked something like a pair of tweezers, she began prodding at the bloody bullet hole. Kathryn drew in a sharp breath through her teeth and promptly turned her head.

She heard Kareala mutter something that sounded something like 'distract her', and Gwannora spoke up again.

'So, have yeh got a man fighting at the Front with yeh?'

Kathryn shook her head. 'No. Never did. Not there, anyway.'

'Family?'

She shook her head again. 'Stormwind. My son's staying with his grandparents while I'm out here.'

'Yer a mother?'

'Yeah.' Not for the first time, Kathryn thought about Liam and felt guilty for abandoning him. 'He's about two now.'

'That's sweet.' Kathryn could tell from her tone that Kareala was smiling. She almost smiled too, but then yelped in pain as something cold and most definitely metal touched the stinging flesh.

Gwannora hastily intervened. 'What's his name?'

'Liam.'

'Who does he look like more?'

'His father, definitely.'

'He's walking, isn't he?'

'Running, more like.'

The dwarves laughed a little at this, before Gwannora fired out another question. 'What's his middle name?'

'D – _argh!_ – Darius.'

'Is he named after anyone?'

'The first name is his father, and – _sssccchhhh –_ and the second is after the first father figure I had.'

'You didn't have a real father?'

'No.'

'And mother?'

'Died when I was eight.'

Gwannora blinked. 'Oh. I'm sorry.'

Kathryn shook her head, her face screwed up in pain. 'Don't be. I'm okay.'

This time Kareala asked the question. 'What about your man? Where's he?'

Kathryn blinked back involuntary tears of pain as she hissed again. The dwarves kept repeatedly apologising, but time after time she waved them off. 'He died in the Battle of Gilneas City. He – _nnnnggrrrr -_ '

'Almost got it,' Kareala assured her, and Kathryn nodded, digging her nails into her palms so she had something else to focus on.

'He died?' Gwannora repeated.

'From Sylvanas herself.'

'I'm sorry.'

Kathryn very nearly flapped her arms. ' _Stop apologising._ It wasn't your _bloody_ fault – _arrsshhcckk!_ '

'Yeh've got a fair bit on your plate, don't yeh?' Gwannora's eyebrows were raised – whether in surprise or shock, Kathryn didn't know. It was probably both.

'Y-you could say that. But then again, bullet hole . . .' She trailed off, muttering. 'This isn't _half_ as bad as the Curse . . .'

She thought that she'd been inaudible, but both of the dwarves perked up.

'Curse?' Kareala said, quirking an eyebrow.

'The Curse of the worgen, you mean?' Gwannora added.

Kathryn couldn't do anything but stare limply at them. Light curse her gob . . .

The pun wasn't intended.

Great. Now she'd let it slip. She'd just gotten herself tossed out. _No one_ wanted a worgen under their roof.

But other than that, the two women didn't really react. They seemed to shrug to each other, before resuming their task of the bullet-extraction.

'What're ya lookin' at me like _that_ for, child?' Gwannora demanded after a moment. Kathryn realised she hadn't wiped the petrified expression off her face, and shook her head slightly.

'Aren't you gonna throw me out now?'

' _Why?_ '

'Worgen. _Worgen_.'

'Yeh said that it's under control. That's good enough for me.'

'And me,' her sister agreed.

'Well – _HOLY FRICKKEN HELL!_ '

'Got it!' Kareala cried triumphantly, holding the offending bullet between a pair of funny-looking tweezers. Kathryn let out a long, high pitched whine that could only be described as "dog-like", and looked toward her thigh, which was now letting out a steady trickle of blood. Kareala quickly put the projectile to the side and set to work at patching up the gaping hole.

'I'm just gonna disinfect it now, then fix up that other cut, and yer all good, love.'

Kathryn nodded pathetically, closing her eyes and attempting to look semi-pleased.

 _Ow._

After that, sting of the rubbing alcohol felt like a comfortable numbing sensation more than anything. Kathryn sat there and grizzled, and only quit muttering when the bandaging was wrapped firmly around her calf, and this whole medical debacle was over with.

Finally, Kareala set the first aid supplies aside and looked her in the eye.

'So why'd yeh come here in the first place, then?'

* * *

 **Sorry, but the chapter was getting on a bit. Had to cut it off.  
**

 **19/11/15**


	9. Desperation

**Wow. Can't believe that around this time last year, I was about half way through Last Chance At Humanity. And, I had no intention of doing a sequel. Funny how times change.  
**

 **Anyway, merry Christmas, whether you celebrate it or not, and have a wonderful day! :)**

* * *

 _ **9 – Desperation**_

 **Lorna**

He was slowly slipping away from her. Lorna guessed that he had two days left in him at the most, and that was only if nothing else went wrong.

She had moved Tobias to her tent, where she could keep a close eye on him. His body temperature was constantly fluctuating; going hot, then cold, and hot again. Lorna tried to cater for him appropriately – whenever he overheated she would sponge his forehead with a damp cloth, and when he started to shiver she piled extra blankets atop his limp form. That night, to ensure nothing bad happened, she slept beside him.

She didn't want to admit to herself that she missed the feeling.

Since that attack, no one else had been shot. All of the surviving men were keeping a look out, and no attack squads had been sent out. It was best to avoid the Forsaken for the time being. Now, everyone was waiting for Kathryn's return, hoping desperately that she would bring a cure with her.

Early the next morning, Kathryn's "friend", Sam, poked his head into the tent. Lorna, who was doing little in terms of productivity except for rubbing her thumb along Tobias' forehead, looked up. Her eyes immediately narrowed. 'What are you doing here?'

'Figured you needed some company,' he said. He paused, looked Lorna up and down in all of her dishevelled glory, and quirked a solitary eyebrow. 'And, I wanted to talk about Kathy while she wasn't here to interrupt. You know how she can be.'

'What makes you think I want to talk to _you?_ ' Lorna asked, but she shifted aside slightly so he could sit down anyway. He obliged. Shooting her a small grin and ruffling his dark hair with one hand, he leaned back lazily and cocked his head in her direction.

' _Well?_ ' Lorna folded her arms crossly and budged a little closer to Tobias as means of self-assurance. Exactly _what_ she was assuring herself _of_ , she didn't know.

Sam seemed to be running through a selection of questions in his head, before eventually settling on the one that apparently bothered him the most. 'That man of hers. Why the _hell_ is she so attached? Why doesn't she bloody well move on?'

Lorna glared. 'Why do you want to know? That's her business, as far as I'm concerned.'

'Because I want to know what happened. I want to help her.'

'Believe me, I've tried. You won't get far.'

'Just tell me.'

She gave him an evaluating look. 'I'm assuming you already know _who_ he was?'

He nodded. 'Yeah. That Greymane bloke.'

She scoffed. ' _That Greymane bloke._ I'm _also_ assuming you know - because you seem to be a _particularly_ smart man, Samuel Buckley – that if the knowledge that she bore his child became public, the world would consider her a whore. Choose your words wisely when you talk about this particular topic to anyone but _me_.'

He raised his hands defensively. 'Calm down. I'm not an idiot.'

She gave a short nod. 'Good.' She paused, then sighed. 'Just . . . it's best if everyone thinks she was married to someone, and then he died. Then everyone lives under the assumption she's a widow, and she isn't judged. I want to keep her safe.'

'She's a metaphorical widow,' Sam offered.

Lorna shrugged. 'True.'

'Why was she so attached to him?'

She gave him a funny look. 'How would I know? From what I could tell, he just kept popping up amidst all of the chaos that was going on since the Forsaken first came, and he grew on her. But don't ask _me_ for the details. I haven't the faintest.'

Sam seemed to be processing that. 'Can you tell me exactly how he died? Well, no, I know how that happened, but tell me how she reacted. I wasn't close enough to see anything.'

She gave him a look. 'When the arrow hit him – straight in the heart – he sort of . . . fell, and she caught him. Then, I'm not quite sure what they were saying (most likely declarations of love, for all I know. . . Oh, it's awful for me to joke about this.) but the last thing he knew was that we'd taken back our city. I think that set him at peace.' She replayed the scene in her head – every second of it had been burned into her mind since it had happened. 'Poor Kathryn – she rarely cries, but when she does, it's awful – it looked like she was dying too. Metaphorically. It was a horrible thing to see. A-and then he . . . passed, and she just sat there for a moment. Then she stood up, started screaming, and with that I think all of the fight just . . . left her. She fell to the ground and wouldn't move. Seeing her like that . . . it broke my heart.' She gave him a rueful look. 'Though, I suppose you wouldn't think that's possible.'

Sam gasped dramatically. 'The ever-terrifying Lorna Crowley has a _heart?_ What a revelation!' Then he sobered. 'But that . . . To me, Kathryn has always seemed so strong. I would hardly believe that she's breakable.'

'That's because you met her when she was already broken,' Lorna said shortly. 'She – she's always been spunky, and _very_ short tempered, but now . . . she has this sort of sharpness to her. It's not a dramatic difference, but I've noticed it.'

'. . . Right. And did she actually _go_ to Darnassus, or did she stay and wreak havoc on the undead?'

Lorna nodded. 'Yes, she left. It was too painful for her to stay. We _had_ intended to leave for Stormwind as soon as possible afterwards, but when we discovered she was with child, there wasn't much we could do. We had to stay there. The elves provided gracious hospitality, especially under that circumstance. I honestly couldn't be more grateful.'

He made a thoughtful noise, before shaking his head. 'I actually don't know what to do. I don't know her enough. She's not really the open type, is she?'

Lorna shook her head. 'No. Definitely not. The most you'll get to know about her is her middle name.'

Sam laughed at that. 'She doesn't trust me enough. I won't even get _that_ far.'

'I don't blame her.'

'Fine. Forget the man. That's something she needs to get over by herself. Tell me some stories. I want blackmail.'

Lorna groaned dramatically. '" _The Life and Times of Kathryn Weiss"_ , hmm? Fine. Life after Gilneas: not much of _that_ is confidential, I guess . . .'

They sat there for hours, forgetting their own troubles as they discussed someone else's. It wasn't bad, actually. Sam was an attentive listener, and for the first time in a long while, Lorna became a storyteller.

* * *

' _Kathryn! Kathryn!' Lorna shot up the spiralling ramp within the elven tree, counting doors as she passed them. Disgruntled night elves moved aside as the barrelled through, particularly avoiding the cargo she brought with her. When she reached the right level, she shoved the door open and burst inside._

' _Kathryn! Look! You'll never believe it; I – oh.'_

 _She carefully stepped into the bedroom, watching the prone figure curled beneath a pile of blankets in the corner. After a moment, she strode forward and sat beside it._

' _Guess what I've brought,' she murmured, giving the figure a little nudge. 'This will make your day. Promise.'_

 _The figured_ mmphed _and Kathryn's head appeared. Lorna pretended not to notice that her eyes were puffy, and pointed towards the door, at what had just entered with her. 'Look.'_

 _It took a moment, but a little smile pulled at the corners of Kathryn's mouth. She looked at Lorna, her eyes shining. 'Mastiff puppies.'_

 _The little dogs, eight in total, scampered towards them as soon as they were acknowledged. Lorna held her hands out and one of the dogs bounded into her arms, barking and trying to lick her face. She held it out to Kathryn, and her tiny hands eventually surfaced from beneath the blankets. She took the animal with a look of reverence on her face, and the smile widened._

' _Look at them,' she whispered, nuzzling her face against it. 'Where did you get them from?'_

' _Apparently someone from Stormwind lives here, and he has a few. One of the mothers had a litter, but he had no room for them. He gave them to me for free.'_

' _They're beautiful.' Lorna saw Kathryn grin for the first time in two whole months._

* * *

' _Okay, that's it. I'm dieting.'_

' _Oh, shut up,' Lorna said, not even looking up from the crossbow she was reassembling. The two of them, in need of employment, had gotten jobs at a weapon vender not far from where they lived, and were more than useful assets to the elvish owner. Their knowledge of guns in particular had proved helpful, especially when any foreign races visited the city. 'You're tiny enough that a bit of extra weight is probably a good thing.' She gave Kathryn a pointed nod. 'The wind probably can't blow you away anymore.'_

 _Kathryn scowled. 'That would be_ fine _, if I actually sprouted_ upwards _. It just seems like I'm putting on a bit of stomach fat. I don't like it.'_

 _Lorna grinned. 'What, Weiss? Not as fit as you used to be?'_

 _Kathryn grumbled. 'Apparently not.'_

 _Lorna would have thought nothing more about this conversation thereafter if other details didn't begin to add up with it. Kathryn continued to get heavier, which she out down to stress eating. That would have made sense, as the nightmares were quite horrific at this point, but she hardly ate at_ all _. Then, whenever she_ did _eat, fits of nausea sent her on violent hormonal rampages. It was only when she started demanding bananas about three months after the events in Gilneas – and not just any bananas; she wanted the_ Tel'Abim _ones – that Lorna figured out what was going on. She sat Kathryn down and gave her the direct cut._

' _You're pregnant, aren't you?'_

 _Kathryn could only shrug, as her mouth was full of banana._

* * *

 _CRASH!_

' _Bugger.'_

 _There was a thump, and Lorna turned to see that Kathryn had smacked her forehead against the wall in frustration. An assortment of weapons was littered around her feet, as though she'd dropped them._

' _You need some help?'_

' _No, no, I've got 'em.'_

 _She then stood straight again and began the laborious task of reaching down to pick them up. After a good minute of trying to successfully navigate this task, she gave up completely and sat down on her backside, before scooping the swords into her lap._

' _Here, stand up, and I'll pile them into your arms.' Lorna pulled Kathryn back to her feet again (with much difficulty) and began picking up the weapons for herself. 'Honestly, it's like you've swallowed a small world.'_

 _Kathryn shook her head and smirked. '_ No _. Come on, Lorna. Everyone knows that Azeroth's a triangle.'_

 _Lorna rolled her eyes. 'Ha ha. Very funny.' She balanced a handful of arrows on the top of her friend's baby-bump, and started laughing when they stayed there. 'Seriously, you're_ huge _.'_

' _Hey, you're only allowed to poke jibes when you've been though it yourself. Until then, shove off.'_

 _Lorna could only grin a little. 'All the same . . . can't believe you've only got a month left.'_

' _Mmm.' Kathryn chewed her lip and stared somewhere over Lorna's right shoulder. 'I . . . I don't know what I'm gonna do, actually . . .'_

* * *

' _LORNA!'_

 _Lorna's head snapped up upon hearing her name, and she leapt to her feet just as Tobias barrelled into the weaponry. 'What? What is it?' she cried, alarmed._

' _It's Kathryn! Quick, she - !'_

' _By the Light . . .' Lorna threw down her blunderbuss and shot out the door, Tobias hot on her heels. She made a beeline straight to the colossal, spiralling tree where they lived and sprinted her way inside, pushing past everyone in her path. Then, so quickly she could barely process it, she was standing outside Kathryn's bedroom and trying to push past a disgruntled priestess of Elune as she was going through the doorway._

' _Kathryn! What is it? Is it -'_

' _\- the baby,' Tobias finished for her, sticking around long enough to see Lorna into the room. He quickly backed out, looking a little green._

 _Lorna pulled up a chair beside the bed as Kathryn fidgeted and grumbled, seeming remarkably calm for someone who was supposed to be giving birth. 'Honestly, woman . . .'_

* * *

' _Is fate being cruel or what? Who can I blame this on? Those dodgy people from Booty Bay! No, wait, I always thought that Syndicate lot looked a bit shifty, but then again . . . I just want someone to complain about, damn it! Let me grumble about this!'_

' _You can insult the Forsaken,' Lorna offered, nodding in Kathryn's direction._

' _I can insult the trol – hey, that's a point. Forsaken it is. DAMN YOU, FORSAKEN! YOU_ OBVIOUSLY _PUT SOME – SOME LIGHTDAMNED CURSE ON ME – A-AND YOU LEFT ME STUCK WITH THIS! A BOY! GAH!'_

' _I don't see why you're complaining,' Lorna said amiably. 'He's gorgeous.'_

 _Kathryn looked down at the bundle in her arms with a critical expression. 'Yes, but do you_ know _who he looks like? Huh? This is just the Light pulling some cruel trick on me.'_

' _He's a reminder of what you've survived,' Lorna put in, reaching out and relieving Kathryn of the baby. 'And don't you forget that.'_

' _He . . . he looks like . . . like Liam.' Kathryn's voice broke on the last word, and she turned her head away. 'I don't know if I -'_

' _Of course you can.' Lorna's voice became forceful. 'And I swear, Kathryn Greymane-Weiss, if you don't see this, I will smack some damned sense into you.'_

' _Do you require anything, Miss Weiss?' The priestess of Elune, who had left just after confirming the health of the child and bestowing some Elune-ish blessings, was standing in the doorway._

 _Lorna perked up. 'A favour actually, if you have the time. Could you please find Gwen Armstead? She really ought to be here right now.'_

 _The priestess seemed to be having an internal grumble about being given such a mundane task, and passed it straight off to a maidservant as she entered with a pitcher of water. The maidservant rolled her eyes when she thought no one was looking, but grudgingly trotted off._

 _Lorna seized the pitched gratefully, and poured Kathryn a glass. They did an exchange – Lorna took the child, and Kathryn the water. The latter drained the glass in two seconds flat, before pouring herself some more. They were silent for a long while._

 _Well, as silent as Lorna could be when she was trying to refrain from audibly cooing over the bundle in her arms._

' _What're you going to call him?' she eventually asked._

 _Kathryn's head snapped up. 'Hmm?'_

' _A_ name _. He needs a name, you bloody idiot.'_

' _But I don't know if I'm keeping him.'_

' _Of course you are. Don't be stupid. There's no way you're passing something_ this _adorable off to an orphanage.'_

 _Kathryn sighed, but didn't reply._

 _Lorna was about to open her mouth again, just as the door opened. Gwen came in, and upon seeing Kathryn, let out a delighted cry. There were kisses on cheeks, and Lorna passed her the baby._

' _What's his name?' Gwen asked, echoing Lorna's earlier question._

' _Undecided. Like his fate.' The tone Kathryn said that in was almost deadpan, and it was the last straw for Lorna. She dumped the pitcher of water on her head._

'OI! _'_

 _A now-dripping Kathryn glared at her from beneath her sopping hair, and shook herself like a dog, sending droplets everywhere. 'What was_ that _for?'_

' _You need to shut up and be grateful, you sod. And you know what? Call him Liam. Be sentimental for once in your life.'_

 _Kathryn looked like she was about to argue, but Gwen jumped in, agreeing vehemently. 'Liam's good. He looks like his father.' She cracked a small grin. 'And watch that you raise him right; he could turn out to be just as much of an arse.'_

' _He was_ not _an arse!' Kathryn objected, bursting into laughter. 'Only I can say that! But, fine. Okay. Liam. Liam. Liam, Liam, Liam. Done.'_

* * *

 **Kathryn**

'Er . . . right. Yeah. Life-saving cure. Hell, I've got to go! I'm sorry, deadline and all; it's a bit hectic – my metaphorical-former-brother-in-law is dying, so I need to go; so he _doesn't_ die, you know, and – can you point me to an apothecary?'

'Hold on a minute, lass!' Kareala grabbed her by the arm and forced her back into the chair as she tried to leave. 'Didn't catch a word of that. If yeh bother to bloody _explain_ , we can probably help yeh.'

Kathryn chewed her lip and stared at her for a full five seconds, before sighing and slumping back in her chair. 'Right. So, these damn Forsaken have been trying to take us out via poison arrows. I have one of said arrows in my bag. We lack ingredients, supplies, and competent healers in order to create any means of reversing the poison, so I had to come here and to find something. See?'

She fished a rolled lump of linen out of her satchel and unravelled it, revealing the arrow they had pushed out of Tobias' shoulder. It had started to fester a bit since she had last seen it – at least, that was the best word to describe it. Something that looked almost like a black, mouldy disease was growing on the arrowhead, and it gave off a putrid smell.

Gwannora's forehead creased at the sight of it, and Kareala instinctively gagged at the stench. Tentatively, the latter eventually took it carefully in her hands, and examined it.

'We'll have to take yeh ta Nyssa,' Gwannora said. 'She's probably the best help yeh can get fer somethin' like this.'

'Who?'

'Nyssa Firestone. First Aid trainer. She knows her stuff.'

Kathryn mulled this over in her mind. 'Yeah, okay. Fine. Can you take me to her?'

The two sisters exchanged a glance, before Kareala carefully handed the arrow back to Kathryn. 'D'yeh think this has any trace of the Plague in it?' she asked, nodding towards the blackened projectile.

Kathryn shook her head. 'No. Everyone who's been hit has died. No one's changed. But then again . . .' She trailed off as a thought crossed her mind. 'Us worgen; we're not affected by the Plague. We physically _can't_ be changed. But what if it hit someone who was normal?'

'Look, by the sound of it, we don't really have tha time ta put this under discussion,' Gwannora said, cutting in. 'People're obviously dyin', so we should get goin'.'

'So you'll show me to Nyssa?' Kathryn repeated. The red-headed dwarf nodded in response.

'Yeah, I'll have'ta. But I can't promise she won't be difficult.'

* * *

Five minutes later found Kathryn and Gwannora entering the first floor of the herbalist's shop (Kareala had stayed behind to start dinner). The stone walls were strung up with an arrangement of herbs and spices, only a small portion of which Kathryn could name by sight. Rows upon rows of vials sat beneath the glass countertop, the brightly coloured liquids within them glowing slightly. The room was empty, and was dark and cool. It unnerved Kathryn slightly, though it was apparent Gwannora had been here several times before. She strode forward towards the counter, and yelled up the staircase positioned behind it.

'OI! NYSSA! ARE YEH UP THERE?'

There was a muffled shout from somewhere above, followed by some crashing and footsteps. Finally, a disgruntled looking red-headed dwarf donned in white and blue robes clumped down the staircase, holding a rather large crate in her arms. 'Whaddya want?' she grumbled. 'I was _busy!_ '

'Yeah, and y're still in business hours. Shut up.'

Nyssa cast an irritated glance towards the clock on the wall, which showed it to be twenty minutes before sundown. ' _Barely_.'

'Look,' Gwannora said flatly. 'We've got something important for yeh. See her?' She jabbed a thumb towards Kathryn. 'She's come from Gilneas. Yer the best help she can get.'

Nyssa dumped the crate on the countertop before folding her arms and looking scrutinisingly at Kathryn. The latter, who was starting to feel more than a little threatened by this intense evaluation, folded her arms and stared stonily back. Bi-coloured eyes glared into brown, and after a moment, Nyssa looked away with a heavy sigh.

' _Fine_. What're ya after?'

With little more than a tiny, twisted frown on her lips, Kathryn fished through her satchel before slapping the arrow on the counter. 'What can you tell me about this?'

Upon seeing the blackened fungus, there was an arousal of interest in Nyssa's eyes. She fumbled around for a tiny set of spectacles with her left hand, while using the other to bring the arrow closer, before inspecting it closely.

'Muradin's _bloody_ Beard . . .' she whispered, her sharp eyebrows loosening in shock. 'Never in my _life . . ._ '

Kathryn allowed her a few moments of silent contemplation before demanding an explanation. 'So . . . ?'

Nyssa slapped the spectacles back on the counter before straightening up. 'What do _you_ think it is, hmm, missy? I want ta know.'

'I -' Kathryn faltered. The last thing she had been expecting was _her_ opinion on the matter. 'I think it's some form of the Plague. Only, it's not working on the worgen.'

Nyssa nodded in approval. 'Yeh're brighter than yeh look, girlie. This is the Plague, all right – and badly concocted, at that. This'll do nothin' more to yeh than make yeh rot quicker. No undeath's gonna happen, here.'

'Holy crap,' Kathryn muttered.

Was this Sylvanas' plan? To turn them all into her own soldiers?

No. It couldn't be. Sylvanas was smarter than that; she knew that most of Gilneas' fighters were worgen. So, unless this was being done without her consent . . .

'Can you make an antidote for the poison part?'

Nyssa looked offended. ''Course I can! Who d'yeh take me for? The _actual_ Plague; no one can reverse that, but this – easy. It's just expensive. So, can yeh afford it?'

Kathryn paused. 'Erm, are you willing to provide this to me out of the goodness of your heart? There are people dying out there.'

Nyssa snorted. ' _No_. All I ever get ta treat 'round here is frostbite, and one doesn't make much of a livin' outta that. Yeh expect me ta give ya somethin' this big fer free? Yeh kiddin' yaself, missy.'

Kathryn huffed, while beside her Gwannora bristled in irritation. 'Fine. I'll see what I've got.' She pulled out a small pouch and did a rough guesstimate of how much currency was in there. 'Sixty, seventy . . . eighty . . . ninety silver?'

Nyssa shook her head. 'Five gold at least. At _least_.'

' _What?_ ' Kathryn yelped. 'I can't – that's not -'

'Here, I'll help yeh, lass,' Gwannora said, shooting Nyssa a glance that said _seriously?_

'No, no,' Kathryn replied. 'I'll think of something. I . . .' Her thoughts trailed off to Lorna, who was waiting for her back at Gilneas, expecting a cure. She couldn't bear to think what would happen if she didn't make it back in time. Losing Tobias would be a cruel blow to her. Grieving was the last thing Lorna could afford to do when fighting a war. Kathryn wasn't going to let that happen.

Unintentionally, Kathryn's eyes wandered downwards, towards her feet, as she tried to come up with a million different ways to pay for this antidote, all of which seemed nearly impossible. Then suddenly, completely unbidden, the most difficult but effective option came to her.

It was all she could afford to do. Yes, it would be emotionally difficult for her, but losing her friend was worse. Losing more Gilneans was worse. Losing this war was worse.

And so, despite it being the last thing in the world she wanted to do, Kathryn slid the golden bracelet off her wrist.

* * *

 **I'm thinking about doing a drabble-ish spinoff series about " _The Life and Times of Kathryn Weiss"_. If I did, would you read it? It would feature little Lorna/Kathryn stories from when they were kids, small sections about the Forsaken invasion in Last Chance At Humanity, little Kathryn/Liam moments we didn't see before, and some stories about Kathryn's travels around the Eastern Kingdoms. **

**What do you think?**

* * *

 **25/12/15  
**


	10. Letters

_**There were a number of strike-throughs in this chapter, but FF wouldn't let me upload them. Instead they are shown in bold, with brackets. Eg**_ **(** **Hello)**

* * *

 **Sorry about the wait. I got bogged down in Writer's Block. But, the motivation came back to me over the last couple of days, and the chapter finally got written.**

 **Yay.**

* * *

 _ **10 - Letters**_

 **Kathryn**

For a long moment, Nyssa did nothing but stare at the circle of gold balancing on Kathryn's palm. Then, the tiniest spark of interest appeared in her eyes, and she carefully picked it up, inspecting it closely.

'An' what's this, huh?'

'Something . . . elvish,' Kathryn replied vaguely, trying not to pay attention to the horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. 'I don't know; ask someone who does. But from what I've gathered, it's worth a bit. Now please help me.'

The dwarf traced a finger along the engraved leaves, clearly making a decision. 'This isn't a fraud,' she said. 'I'd know that in a heartbeat. And there's sentimental value, obviously.' She held it up a little, as though weighing it. 'Gold - twenty carats, I'd say – and the rest's platinum. This is expert craftsmanship. And, if I didn't know any better -' She held it up to her eye and tapped it with her nails. 'I'd say there's a small store of magic locked up in here – don't know what, exactly, but I've got a feeling it's some sort of essence. You a magic user, girlie?'

Kathryn nearly dropped the handful of coins she had been holding. ' _Magic?_ '

' _Yes_ , keep up. Now, yeh don't look like a mage to me. Are ya?'

'I-I'm not.'

'Right. So this is useless to ya?'

Kathryn exchanged an uneasy glance with Gwannora, before shrugging. 'I'd say so.'

Nyssa seemed satisfied. She set the bracelet down on the countertop with a solid sounding clink and stared at where her hand rested for a long while, almost as though she were thinking. Her stoic expression prevented Kathryn from reading any emotions, and because of it the latter felt a small ball of anxiousness begin to build in her chest. If Nyssa refused to agree to this, it would very well be the end of the road for Gilneas.

Nyssa finally looked up, straight at Kathryn. Her intense stare bored into the worgen for a long time, once again betraying nothing. Kathryn restrained the urge to step back a little and stood her ground, making herself appear steadier than she actually was, both mentally and physically.

'I'm not stupid, girlie,' the herbalist said finally. Her words were surprisingly quiet, making her accent even thicker than before. 'I know you're in a tight spot. An' I'm not heartless, despite whatever in Muradin's name ya might be thinkin'. So I'm gonna help ya out as best I can.'

Kathryn felt a smidgeon of hope begin to squash that anxiety ball. 'You are?'

'It may not be my war, but I'm not lettin' those Forsaken win if I can help it.' She gave a firm nod. 'I'll make ya that antidote; and a pretty decent amount, at that. But it's gonna take me all night. You're gonna have to wait.'

Kathryn opened her mouth – whether to complain or make a contribution, she wasn't quite sure – but Nyssa cut her off with a firm hand.

'Right, then. Sorted. Come back in the mornin' and we'll finalise all of this.'

* * *

Kathryn sat cross-legged on the bed in Kareala's spare room and stared into the darkness. She found it completely impossible to sleep, despite the fact that heaviness was building behind her eyes and she couldn't quite see properly. Her brain was on full-alert, mainly panicking about the "waiting" factor. She couldn't _afford_ to wait; the fact that it was the early hours of the morning was bad enough. Tobias could already be dead for all she knew, and that was what worried her the most.

She thought back to the day where Lorna and Tobias had gotten married. It wasn't an immensely extravagant occasion; though the Greymanes wanted to provide the funds, but Kathryn honestly hadn't seen her friend any happier. It was only Kathryn, Darius, Lorna, Tobias, the Greymanes, and a few of Tobias' friends; all of whom who had grudgingly left the comfort and familiarity of worgen form to don awkward-looking suits. Lorna herself had rented a simple white wedding gown from the dressmaker in the Trade Square, and though it wasn't much, she looked indescribably beautiful all the same.

' _Ready?'_

 _Lorna leaned from foot to foot, cheeks bright pink, and tucked a flyaway curl behind her ear. 'I don't – I'm not – I'll -' She stopped, tried to phrase the sentence correctly in her head (with apparent failure) before looking back at Kathryn with a nervous smile. 'Yes. Yes, I am.'_

 _Kathryn placed her hands on her shoulders. 'Well relax. You look amazing. Tobias won't know what hit him.'_

 _If possible, she went even pinker. There were few times in her life that Kathryn had ever seen Lorna so uncollected and nervous, and those were during childhood. Now, though, she didn't blame her._

' _You think?'_

' _Definitely. Now, I'm never going to get a day like this myself, so you have to promise me that you'll enjoy it. Yeah?'_

 _Lorna's smile gained some confidence, and she raised her hand to link their fingers together. 'Yes. Don't worry about me.'_

 _Kathryn grinned. 'I'll worry all I like. It's not every day that I have to give my best friend away to a man. I talked to him earlier, actually. Made sure to properly threaten his wellbeing if he ever hurts you. So, no matter what happens, I'll still be around for you. Got it?'_

' _Absolutely.' She grinned in response, and Kathryn took that opportunity to spin her around and do a final check-over. Her black ringlets were pinned up in a messy but elegant bun at the back of her head, with a few curling around the sides of her face. The veil was clipped up at the top, presently behind her head, so Kathryn carefully lifted it over to cover her face. She then straightened the dress sleeves around her shoulders, and stepped back to have a proper look. The delighted smile immediately returned._

' _Done. Now -' She then adjusted her own simple, blue bridesmaid dress so it sat more comfortably, and stuck her hands on her hips. '- Into the fray.'_

Kathryn flopped backwards onto the bed quilt, shaking herself from the memory. Tobias' _life_ was on the line, and here she was reminiscing about a damn _wedding_.

 _Though to be fair, you can't do much about that at the moment_ , a little voice in her head said.

'Bugger off,' Kathryn told it. She couldn't tell exactly why, but that voice was always a smartarse whenever it made contributions to her thoughts. It also had a nasty habit of sounding like Liam.

 _It's true, though. So stop beating yourself up over it._

'Shut _up_.'

It did.

'Now -' She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes so hard that she saw stars, and kept talking to herself. '- let's sort out my life. Issue one: my best friend's ex-husband is dying. Or possibly already dead. I have no way of telling right now, but the point is, I need to do something about it. Issue two: right now, Light knows how many fighters we've lost to that poison. And, unless we deal with that soon, there won't be any of us left. Issue three: Gilneas is losing a war. Issue four: I am a _terrible_ mother, and really need to -' She shot up suddenly, guilt flooding into her gut like a tidal wave. '- write. I need to _write_ , damn it.'

It was so ridiculous; the idea of _writing a letter_ when there were so many things going _wrong_ , that she started to laugh. Not a proper laugh, but rather several waves of uncontrollable giggling that caused her eyes to water, and her aching limbs to throb.

But, it was an idea.

Swivelling around and getting up off the bed, Kathryn poked around in the drawers by the dim light of her candle, until she found some scraps of parchment, an ink bottle that looked like it hadn't been touched in years, and a tool oddly reminiscent of a calligraphy pen. She dumped the supplies in the middle of the floor, sat the candle beside it, and dragged the quilt off the bed, before cocooning herself in it and lying down on her stomach, propped up on her elbows.

She stared at the paper, but no ideas came to her. After a long moment of contemplation, she sighed, dipped the pen in the ink, and just let her mind flow.

 _Genn, Mia, and Tess,_

 _Hoping you are well. I apologise for not writing sooner, but a lot has happened and I haven't had the time. We arrived in Gilneas two weeks ago, and since then have disposed of the Forsaken's reinforcements, and prevented any further advances. Darius Crowley left for Fenris Keep five days ago, intending to convince refugees from Hillsbrad to join our cause. I do not know if he has returned yet, as I am not at the camp while writing this, but I assume he will fairly soon. **(**_ ** _I do not-)_** _Unfortunately, an issue arose yesterday which has hindered our progress some. The Forsaken have begun sending in assassins to kill our fighters with poison; one of Sylvanas' specialties, no doubt. However, we lack the means to counter it, and I have been sent to Ironforge in search of an antidote. I believe I have found one, but that subjects me to waiting until enough has been made. I wish I could say that was the worst of the bad news, but there is more. Tobias was one of the first to succumb, and even now as I write I haven't got any idea whether he still lives. I can only hope for Lorna's sake that he does._

Kathryn put pen to paper several times after that, but she couldn't find anything else to say. There _wouldn't_ be anything else until later. She pushed the half-finished letter aside and instead began writing on another.

 _Gwen._

 _I know it's been a long time. And I'm sorry. Really. **(**_ ** _It was-)(_ _Not that-)_** _I know it was bloody awful of me not to contact you, but I don't even know where you are. Granted, you've been in the same position, so I suppose I should start from the top._

 _I didn't come back to Darnassus after visiting Gilneas. Obviously. Instead I took the boat north out of Forsaken territory and slowly travelled back to Stormwind on foot through the wilds. Don't ask me why, because I cannot promise you a dignified excuse. All I can say is that is really what happened._

 _I had barely arrived at Stormwind when I got the news that the Crowleys were leading a Liberation Front to retake Gilneas, and I took the next ship to join them, leaving Liam with the Greymanes._

 _I know that I am in no position to ask you for a favour, but please, **(**_ ** _if I di-)_** _if something happens, look after him. The Greymanes have already been through this whole "child raising" process, and I don't really want him to be brought up as royalty. I know what you are capable of, and I trust you more than anything in the world, so please, I beg of you, do what you can._

 _He deserves more than I can give him._

She stopped again, lost for words once more. Wordlessly, she pushed the parchment aside and grabbed another scrap.

 _I miss you._

 _I'm sorry._

 _I couldn't do anything._

 _It's my fault._

 ** _(It's not that-)_** _I can't properly **(**_ ** _think about-)(_ _process-)_** _comprehend it sometimes._

 _It was short but sweet._

 _And it's my fault._

 ** _(No, it's your fault.)_**

 _Why did you have to do that? **(**_ ** _Why did you have to-)_**

 ** _(I don't-)_**

 _Why did you leave me alone?_

 ** _(Why did you need-)_**

 _Why did you have to be so bloody brave?_

 _Why did you have to care so much?_

The words were random, and they would make no sense to anyone who read them. But she didn't care. She felt the tension in her chest ease as she scribbled these short sentences, because they mattered to her. They played a small part in translating the confusion in her head, and though it wasn't much, it felt like everything.

She wrote six final words, and sat up, folding the other two letters in half and tucking them in her pack. But the third she simply stared at, not quite sure what to do with it. After a moment, she folded it into eighths before tucking it securely in her bra, as to avoid losing it. She then put the writing tools back where she found them, blew out the candle, and climbed back onto the bed, dragging the quilt with her.

Sleep grudgingly began to claim her, but through the blackness, that last sentence was still burned on the inside of her eyelids.

 _Why did you have to die?_

* * *

'I made the biggest dosage I could. This is enough fer thirty full-grown men, but all the same, use it wisely.'

Nyssa pressed a pot the size of a small urn into Kathryn's hands. The latter was quick to put it securely into her pack, protected by a layer of clothing, before turning back to the dwarf. 'Thank you.'

Nyssa waved her off. 'Just doin' my job, girlie. Now, that bracelet of yours could probably afford yeh somethin' else. D'yeh need anythin'?'

Kathryn paused, caught off guard by the question. 'I, uh . . .' Nothing immediately jumped to mind, so she shook her head. 'No. I don't think so.'

She shrugged. 'Alright then. Well, off yeh go. They're dyin' didn't ya say?'

'I . . . yeah. I'll go. Thank you again.' Kathryn shouldered her pack and made her way to the door. Just as she was about to step out into the street, though, a thought hit her. 'Wait!'

Nyssa, who was halfway up the stairs to the second floor, paused. 'Hmm?'

'Do you -' She paused and swallowed, before walking back to the counter. 'Do you have anything to help prevent . . . miscarriage?'

* * *

'Take care, lass _,'_ Kareala said fondly, patting her on the cheek. 'I've packed yeh some food fer the journey. Hopefully yeh won't get shot down this time.'

'Better not,' Kathryn muttered.

'Ah, she'll be fine,' Gwannora said stoutly. 'Yer made of strong stuff, girl. Go win that war.'

'I will,' Kathryn replied. She moved her body weight from foot to foot, noting with nothing short of amazement that whatever Kareala had done to patch up her leg, it had worked wonders. 'Tell Murgurn I said thank you.'

'Will do. Now yeh'd better go. Best not keep them waitin'.'

'Yes. Thank you.'

The flight master was a little baffled at her odd request of location, but when she punted over the silver that Nyssa had refused, he agreed to let one of his beloved gryphons to take her into Forsaken territory. Five minutes later, Kathryn was out of Ironforge and back in the bitingly cold air, on her way home.

Hopefully there would be something to come back to.

* * *

The camp was in chaos when she arrived. The gryphon crashed down through the pine trees with a loud squawk, conveniently flattening a Forsaken foot soldier while doing so. It seemed that one of Sylvanas' scouting groups had come a little too close for comfort, nearly reaching the outskirts of the camp. Worgen fighters were scattered here and there, admittedly making quick work of the enemy, but in a manner frenzied enough that Kathryn immediately began to panic. She slid off the gryphon and swapped to worgen form, immediately tossing herself into the fray.

She tore heads from necks and snapped bones, disposing of them in the best way she knew how (how _does_ one kill the dead?) while trying to gauge how many worgen fighters were left at the same time.

Not many.

That wasn't good. Light only knew how many the poison had already taken care of.

The scouts were dealt with in a few short minutes, but the anxiety Kathryn had begun to feel wasn't fading. She reverted to human form and took off into the camp, looking for Lorna.

'Lorna! _Lorna! LOR –'_

She cut off and paused, skidding to a stop outside the first aid tent.

There were _so many_. A makeshift gazebo had been set up next to the tent, which was seemingly overflowing with people. There were rows of cots, all filled with obvious poison victims, and those who couldn't fit in the tent were sheltered by the gazebo. Kathryn's heart lurched when she realised that Farley was sprawled atop one of them. Edward had fallen asleep beside him, leaning on the frame, and Sam had pulled up a chair on the other side. His figured was tired and defeated as he stared at his friend's pained face with unfocused eyes. Kathryn could only stand still and watch them for a while, as she didn't want to interrupt. Her gaze lingered for a long while on his hand, which was interlaced with Farley's. He hadn't noticed her yet.

Deciding to leave him alone, Kathryn turned, once again searching for Lorna. She had to know what had happened to Tobias. ' _Lorna!_ '

Conveniently, Lorna burst out of a nearby tent in response. ' _Kathryn!_ You made it! Did you - ?'

' _Antidote!_ ' Kathryn cried, sprinting to her, a grin stretching over her face. 'I've got one! Is Tobias -'

'He's not dead yet,' Lorna replied, a newfound light in her eyes. 'Come on.' She grabbed her by the hand and dragged her to her own tent.

Tobias was lying in Lorna's bed, wrapped up in blankets, and giving off enough heat to warm the entirety of Ironforge.

'It's almost like he's developed a fever as well,' Lorna said, a worried crease between her eyes. 'I've been trying to drive it out, but -'

'We'll see if this works,' Kathryn said, tossing her pack down on the ground and searching for the antidote. She pulled out the pot, unscrewed the lid, and sat down beside him, before removing the dressing from the wound.

The sight that greeted her almost made her throw up. The wound had gone black and crusty, and ominous looking pus was swelling beneath the skin around it. Fighting the gag reflex, Kathryn pulled away enough of the contaminated scabbing as she needed to access the flesh, and smeared a reasonable amount on it.

The reaction was almost instantaneous. Some of the tension in Tobias' facial muscles eased, and he audibly exhaled, like the salve was providing substantial relief from the pain. Kathryn took that as an indication that it was working. She quickly bandaged the wound with some fresh cloth, and turned to Lorna, pulling her into a hug.

'Here's to hoping.'

'Thank you,' Lorna breathed. 'I think he was nearly -'

'Don't think about it,' Kathryn advised. 'I'm going to give this to the healers.'

Lorna nodded and took her place beside Tobias. Kathryn quickly left the tent, the weight on her chest lifting and finally allowing her to breathe easier.

One down. Several to go.

* * *

Kathryn gave the antidote to the first healer she found and made a beeline straight back to where Sam was. She paused again a good distance away. In the time she had been gone, someone had draped a blanket over Farley's prone figure. Edward continued to sleep, but Sam had moved so he was sitting on the edge of the cot. He was still holding his hand.

After a long moment of debate, Kathryn walked forward, obviously enough that she would be noticed before she arrived. Sure enough, Sam's tired gaze shot up to meet hers, and he immediately withdrew his hand. Kathryn pretended not to notice, and sat at the foot of the cot, looking at him.

'Any luck?' Sam's voice was hoarse, and whether from disuse or overexertion, she didn't know. Maybe it was both.

Kathryn nodded. 'They're distributing the antidote now. I think he's going to be okay.'

Sam nodded but looked back down again. Kathryn took the silence as an opportunity to inquire.

'When did he -'

'Last night.' Sam squeezed his eyes shut, as though remembering the fear the event had brought with it. 'Stab wound to the thigh. Looks like they've got small people on their side now, too.'

Goblins.

Kathryn sighed, and continued to watch him, trying to get him to look up. He didn't. 'I think we've got a running chance, now,' she said eventually. 'If this antidote works, and Darius convinces the Hillsbrad people to join us . . .'

'And if not?'

'Better start writing your will.'

'Fair enough.'

Another long moment of silence passed. After a while, Kathryn looked at Farley and said, 'Are you . . . ?'

She trailed off, trying to find words subtle enough to voice her thoughts, but after a moment two dots of red appeared on Sam's cheeks, and he gave an answer. 'Not here. Later. Please.'

 _Please_. That was the first time Kathryn had ever heard him say that. It was enough to keep her quiet.

* * *

'So, does he know that you . . . fancy him?'

Sam shuffled his position on the branch he was perched on, and sighed, looking across at her _._ 'No. And I intend to keep it that way.'

Kathryn shrugged. 'Okay. Fair enough.' She swung her feet through the air, peering down through the expanse of branches. She hadn't noticed how high they had climbed until just now. 'I don't blame you, though.'

'. . . Huh?'

'He _is_ a rather dashing bloke. Nice eyebrows.'

He snorted. 'I s'pose.'

'Reasonably attractive arse, too.'

Sam choked on air. ' _What?_ '

She gave him a tongue-in-teeth grin. 'Don't pretend you haven't noticed, Samuel Buckley.'

The redness returned to his cheeks faster than he could put out an objection, and she cackled in triumph. Sam shook his head exasperatedly, muttering to himself, but a tiny, embarrassed grin was tugging on the corners of his mouth.

'I reckon you should do something about it when this Gilneas business is all over,' she continued. 'Buy him flowers, take him some place nice, then snog him senseless.'

Sam blanched, before shaking his head furiously. 'Are you mad, woman? _Flowers?_ I'm too manly for that.'

'There's nothing degrading about buying flowers for your sweetheart,' she replied amiably, leaning back against the trunk of the tree.

' _Urgh_.' Sam let his forehead fall into his hands, and let out an odd series of grumblings and mutterings. 'You're turning this situation into something ridiculously girly. I'm never coming to you for an opinion _ever_.'

'Considering I've never been "girly" in my life before this moment, I think it's a bit overdue, don't you?'

He gave her a particularly rude hand gesture in response, and she burst into laughter.

Apparently not.

* * *

 **21/2/16**


	11. Pyrewood

**I'm really sorry that this update took so long. Nothing I can say can really justify _why_ , but . . .**

 **Thoughts on Legion, anyone?**

* * *

 _ **11 – Pyrewood**_

 **Kathryn**

'I don't understand,' Lorna murmured, Tobias' limp hand clasped tightly in her own. 'Why isn't he waking up?'

Kathryn dunked a washcloth in a bucket of cold water, and reapplied it to his burning forehead, chewing on the inside of her cheek. 'I don't know,' she admitted.

'Is it because he was poisoned for _too long_ , or what? Does the Curse have anything to do with it?'

Kathryn shook her head, shrugging a little. 'I doubt it's the Curse. Farley has it too, and he was up and tracking down beer within the hour. Maybe . . .' She paused, and screwed up her face in thought. 'Maybe it's related to the wound's location in regards to vital organs?'

Lorna gave her a sideways glance, as though she were considering the possibility of that idea, however reluctantly. 'Perhaps. Or . . .' She trailed off and exhaled through her mouth, rolling out her shoulders a little.

Kathryn, who had been on her way to dump the remaining dirty water outside, paused. She swallowed, several possibilities occurring to her all at once, and unconsciously tensed the left side of her face, causing the eyebrow to arch slightly. 'Or what?' she asked quietly.

'Or it hasn't worked.'

'Shut up.' Lorna jumped slightly at the immediate sharpness in her tone, and gave her a slightly disbelieving look. Her dark brown eyes flickered up to meet Kathryn's bicoloured ones, and her expression formed a familiar question that she could read all too well. _Why must you deny everything all the time?_

'I'm not in denial,' she said, averting her eyes. 'It's called open-mindedness.'

'Since when are _you_ open minded?'

'I have my moments.'

Lorna scoffed. 'You don't say.'

'I'm a better person for it.'

'I agree there.' Lorna spared Tobias a sad glance, before getting to her feet. 'I hope it lasts.'

Kathryn linked their arms together. 'I promise not to become a raging psychopath.'

'Thank you.'

The moment was cut short by the sound of boot steps stopping outside of Lorna's tent, followed by a, 'Miss Crowley?'

Lorna and Kathryn exchanged a slightly dubious glance, before the former untangled herself and strode over to the doorway, pushing open the flap. 'Yes?'

'Your father has returned.'

* * *

Kathryn watched the fleet of ships pull into the dock from the hill to the east. She didn't move as groups of 7th Legion troopers rolled out fresh artillery, and crates upon crates of supplies, before moving up into the Headlands towards the base camp. She stayed in the same position; worgen form, muscles taut, ears pricked, and perfectly balanced on all fours, listening to the wind.

She wasn't exactly sure what she was waiting for. Change, perhaps. Maybe a sign that things would get better.

The sun was just reaching the horizon, casting an orange and pink glow out across the water, and the first stars were starting to become visible. As darkness started to crawl up from the forest behind her, Kathryn padded around in a small circle, before flopping down in the grass with a short huff.

Slowly the warmer tones in the sky faded into a dark purple, before shifting completely into blackness. Kathryn didn't budge, and lay there unblinking, letting the cold breeze pass over her in waves.

'Come back to camp.'

Kathryn had heard Lorna approach, but only proceeded to ignore her, burying her nose in the scruffy fur of her haunches. Lorna sighed slightly, as though she had been expecting such a response, and plonked down in the grass beside her, setting down the lamp she had been carrying.

'It's not your fault, you know.'

Kathryn made a low, irritable noise somewhere in the depths of her chest, and pointedly shut her eyes.

' _Kathryn._ '

Lorna let out a long-suffering sigh, before tossing something with a _thump_ on the grass in front of Kathryn's face. 'Mail delivery.'

Kathryn jerked in slight surprise, sitting up abruptly and looking at Lorna confusedly. Lorna simply tilted her head towards the package.

Kathryn looked at it apprehensively for a short moment, before morphing back into human form and picking it up with delicate hands. She carefully unlaced the twine holding together the brown butcher's paper, and unfolded it.

It was a dark leather jacket; battered, dirty, and achingly familiar. A folded square of creamy parchment with her name written on it poked out of the left pocket.

'By the Light,' Lorna breathed, her brow furrowing in realisation as she leaned over for a closer look. 'Is that - ?'

'My old jacket?' Kathryn mumbled, in slight shock. 'I think so. But _how?_ I . . .' She gave a short, disbelieving huff of laughter. 'I _lost_ it when I got the Curse. I honestly couldn't tell you where the hell it ended up. So, how . . . ?'

'I don't know. But look.' Lorna took the parchment between her first two fingers and gave it to her. Kathryn unfolded it to find a long, extensive letter, and a second page which proceeded to fall out. Lorna waited silently as her eyes scanned over the pages, absently fingering the cuff of one of the sleeves. As she read, Kathryn felt her formerly tense face slip into something akin to slight shock, and she looked back at the jacket for a brief second. After several minutes, once she had read and reread the letter a few times over, she set it down. 'Oh.'

'Want to talk about it?' Lorna asked, watching her carefully.

Kathryn picked up the jacket and brushed off some of the dirt that had been pressed into the creases, before slipping it on. Even after all these years, it gave the same comfort, and the worgen part of her could still find the faintest traces of her smell clinging to the seam fibres. She closed her eyes, and for the first time in a very long while, she let out a sigh quite close to contentment. 'The Greymanes sent it.'

Lorna gave her a marginally confused look. 'How? Why . . . Why would they have it?'

'Liam. Found it a few months after I disappeared. Bloody idiot knew it was mine and kept it. Mia was sorting through their possessions the other day and it was amongst the things they had time to save.'

'That's really . . .' Lorna chewed her bottom lip and looked at Kathryn with a faint trace of a smile on her face. 'He liked you before he even knew your middle name.' She shook her head exasperatedly, now full-on grinning. 'The fool.'

She drew the jacket a little more tightly around herself. It was the first thing since leaving that really felt like home.

* * *

Kathryn finished up the letters she had started in Ironforge, and put them in the crate full of mail due to be sent back to Stormwind. They were short and tacky; writing had never been her strong suit, and she hated trying to accurately form her thoughts into words. After deciding it was best to just write lies about how she was okay, she folded and sealed them, before scribbling names and addresses on the front.

While he was away, Darius had successfully convinced the Hillsbrad refugees to join the fight. At this victory, the worgen forces were almost doubled, giving Kathryn fresh hope that they could actually win this damn campaign.

Taking advantage of the numbers, Darius sent a two dozen worgen to launch a surprise attack on the Forsaken's Forward Command. While Sylvanas and her forces were occupied, the 7th Legion and the remaining worgen who weren't injured would take the opportunity to overtake Pyrewood Village, to the north. Kathryn was among those numbers. Though an unnervingly large part of her wanted to go to the Forward Command and try to find Sylvanas, she knew that such a risk would most likely end her life. Thus, grudgingly obeying her conscience, she riffled through the short supply of leather armour, trying to find something that would be small enough to fit her. Eventually she took a breastplate that sat a little too wide on the shoulders, some greaves, stiff spaulders with a number of punctures, and some strange piece of leg armour made up of worn leather pads, straps and buckles. Most of it was too big, but she took it all regardless, intending to adjust it the best that she could.

She met up with Lorna at the back of the camp, who was engrossed in a serious looking conversation with the 7th Legion squadron leader.

'. . . they have their strongest fortifications at the town hall, which is probably be where they'll be keeping their artillery, if they have any.' She looked over the man's shoulder and spotted Kathryn, before waving her over hastily. 'This is Kathryn,' she told him. 'I was going to get her to help you lead the attack.'

Kathryn blinked once. 'Excuse me, what now?'

'I need you to lead the worgen in this operation,' Lorna replied, not faltering under her horrified look. 'The 7th Legion will be leading an attack from the eastern side, while the rest of you stealth in from the southern side and try to take the main buildings as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, they'll be taking out the worst of the troops.'

Kathryn blinked again, still feeling slightly miffed. 'Yeah, alright. Sure. That's fine. Kathryn Weiss, Leader of Men. Leader of Wolf Men, anyway. Sounds fun.'

The squadron leader gave her a funny look, as though he almost couldn't comprehend that someone who seemed to idiotic and unprofessional would aid in leading an assault. Lorna picked up on this rather quickly, and addressed him with a single arched eyebrow.

'Kathryn is the best we have. She is a fully qualified rogue, and was on the front lines in the Battle for Gilneas. Granted, she has no formal military history, but she's a quick and logical thinker. I trust her with my life, and you should too.'

The man's jaw twitched, and he gave her one final scrutinising look, before turning back to Lorna. 'Very well. However, we have received new information which may change the situation.'

Lorna paused. 'What?'

'Sylvanas has raised and appointed a new strategical advisor – one who knows this land and its people very well. And, to a degree, its king.'

Lorna's gaze hardened, and her tone became icy. She spoke a single word, measured and careful. 'Who?'

'Lord Vincent Godfrey.'

Kathryn immediately let out an unexpected squawk of outrage, and several seconds of silence passed thereafter. Finally Lorna, now trembling with barely contained rage, spoke, her voice soft yet deadly.

'Then this changes everything.' She pulled her hair out of her face and tied it back, before rolling out her shoulders with some sort of finality. 'We have a new target.'

* * *

'We've got to take that bastard out. He can't give Sylvanas all our secrets.'

'You know he will, and we can't do anything about that until we make a new plan of attack.' Kathryn let out an angry hiss as she accidentally overtightened her leg guards, and looked up at Sam from where she sat, practically seething. 'I want to rip his head off myself.'

'Many of us do,' he replied. 'But we can't do anything about that until we find him.'

There was a long silence, save for the sound of Kathryn adjusting her armour. Godfrey was a selfish, conniving bastard who deserved worse than undeath itself. And the fact that he had betrayed his king in life, and also continued to do so in death was infuriating. Yet, he could still be dealt with . . .

A small, feral smile stretched across Kathryn's face. ' . . . and I _can_ do that . . .'

'What?' Sam asked, looking at her sharply. She got to her feet.

'You're going to lead the attack on Pyrewood. I'm going to find Godfrey.'

'Don't you dare,' he hissed. 'You'll put us all at risk if you do that.'

'No I won't,' she replied. 'Sylvanas will be completely occupied by the attack we're launching on the Front. In the midst of all that chaos, I can sneak in, kill Godfrey, and sneak back out.'

'One thing at a time,' Sam insisted. 'We'll deal with Godfrey eventually, but we can't take him out too soon or Sylvanas will get an idea of what we're doing. We can't risk that.'

Kathryn frowned at him. 'He knows too much. Sylvanas could learn anything about this place from him, and we can't risk _that_.'

Sam sighed. 'So what do we do?'

Kathryn exhaled slowly, before reluctantly giving in. 'We'll take out Pyrewood first. After that Godfrey _will_ die. I swear it.'

* * *

 **3/11/16**


	12. Cities in Dust

**I had a bit of a poke around the Warcraft forums when writing this chapter, trying to find the original Gilneas crest (not the worgen one). I eventually found a forum post which involved a lot of speculation over it, before rolling with the Greymane family banner as the Gilneas crest. It seems fitting in my mind, anyway.**

* * *

 _ **12 – Cities in Dust**_

The icy ground crunched beneath his feet as he made his way further and further into the thicket of trees, sparing a single glance up at the sky before it vanished from view. Even the sun seemed cold as it shone reluctantly above him. All around it was eerily silent; not unexpected for this time of year, but it still felt strange. It was pierced by a sudden, distant howl, and he perked up, now considerably more alert. Raising his lantern to the shadows, he looked around briefly, before striding forward to meet them.

The tracks he was following were very faint - at least a few days old, but his curiosity had gotten too much of him just to ignore them. They were a curious shape; the pads of the paw were oddly longer than those of an ordinary wolf, almost finger-like, and ended in long, vicious claws that unearthed large chunks of the damp soil. He knew exactly what they had come from.

These trees were only marginally familiar to him, sparking memories from far back in his childhood. The smell of cedar and pine wasn't particularly comforting, but rather served as a horrible reminder of what lived in these forests, and everything it did. Somehow, that spurred him to go further.

Eventually the ground sloped downward and opened out into a very small clearing. The grass around here was well worn down, littered with the fresh indentations of paw prints. What little that remained of a rotting deer carcass had been dumped by the rocky opening to a small den, barely concealed by a few scraggly bushes. As he drew closer, the stench of filth and urine became more distinctive.  
What he had thought was a den could be better described as a burrow. Something had dug itself a home in the earth, with barely enough room to fit an average man. There was perhaps enough space to curl up, but that was all.

Taking care not to disturb the soil, he knelt down and poked his head inside, looking for anything unusual. This yielded no results, and he moved the lantern closer as though it would change that fact.

It really was just a hole in the dirt. There was nothing unusual about it, nothing that gave indication that something unnatural lived in it. Only –

He paused, as a glimmer caught his eye. Something metal was poking through the dirt, and he reached out to unearth it. Mud formed a crusty layer all about it, but he was able to brush away enough to see an etching on a silvery button. Squinting, he moved even closer, and tried to pull it out. It gave a tug, now showing that it was attached to a material. Now extremely interested, he pulled the whole thing out in one go.

It was an old, filthy jacket. Fairly unremarkable, but what it was doing in a dirt hole was an interesting question. He brushed it off, and held the button he had been examining up to the light. The markings were well-worn and very faint, but he could discern a horizontal line, a hook shape, and a number of diagonal markings coming off it – the crest of Gilneas; the Greymane family banner.

Somehow it felt familiar, but not because of the marking. He thoughtfully brushed off more mud, and tugged the skeletal remains of a dead mouse from out of the left pocket. It cracked and fell to pieces as the tail hooked on something, and he reached in again to withdraw a small knife. It was stained with a dark substance that could only be blood, and was beginning to rust. He squinted at it, intrigued, before an uninvited memory suddenly unearthed itself from the back of his mind.

' _. . . Go now. That is an order!'_

 _A golden haired girl picked the knife off the filthy cobblestones with a smirk that clearly read: "Stop me. I dare you"._

' _Alright then, pretty boy,' she said, shoving it into her pocket. 'Shall do.'_

A sickening weight dropped in his stomach.

It was a punch in the face straight from reality. There was no possible way, no matter how much he hoped, that she could be alive now. All of it – her dreams, her future, any chance of ever seeing her again, was gone. There was no doubt about it now. He couldn't keep fooling himself.

He exhaled heavily through his mouth, and shook the jacket vigorously, ridding it of the worst of the dirt. Then he carefully folded it, and tucked it so it was slung through his belt. Then he patted the ground to see if there was anything else he missed, before getting to his feet.

As the sun steadily sank, the forest gradually became even darker than before, and he spared one last glance around the little clearing. This was where her killer made its home. The beast that had without a doubt _slaughtered her_ –

He shook his head, feeling nauseous, and picked up the lantern once more. He made to leave again, but halted at the last moment, his attention drawn to a darkened patch between two trees.

A pair of piercing blue-green eyes glared at him through the dark, before vanishing into nothingness.

* * *

 **Kathryn**

'Holy _shit_ , Kathy. What did you _do?_ ' Sam rose from his spot in the grass where he had been sitting, sharpening swords, and grabbed Kathryn under the arms before she toppled over.

'Just got a little mauled,' she mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant. This was nearly impossible, since she was on the verge of fainting.

'By friend or foe?' He carefully lowered her to the ground and started stripping away her ruined chest piece, before pressing his hand to her abdomen to staunch the slow trickle of blood that was refusing to stop. 'You need a healer.'

'Nah. It's not that bad.'

'. . . it was one of the Forsaken, yeah?'

'Mmm. The coward just stuck me in the gut and ran off. Didn't get the chance to rip his head from his shoulders.'

'By the Light . . .' He tore a strip of material from the sleeve of his shirt, before balling it up and stuffing it against the wound. 'But did you get it? The village?'

'Yeah. For the meantime, anyway.'

'Well, that's good.' He got up and moved over to the nearby barrel of water, and filled up a small pail. He then dunked the bloody strip in it, before gently dabbing at the mess of ruined skin and flesh. Kathryn hissed as the sudden coldness stung painfully, and instinctively recoiled.

'How deep is it?' he asked, looking at her hesitantly.

'Not very. It just stings.'

'So it hasn't punctured anything?'

She gave him a flat stare. 'I think I would have noticed,' she deadpanned.

He shrugged defensively. 'Adrenaline does funny things to your pain tolerance. You never know.'

'Well -' She exhaled and looked down at his hand. '- I think I'm fine. I'll just stitch it up.'

'Alright. It's getting cold though. You should put on some more layers.'

She glanced up at the sun, which was dipping down below the horizon. 'Yeah, okay. Could you get my jacket for me? It's in my satchel.'

'Sure.' He got up and disappeared into the cluster of tents. Kathryn meanwhile edged her way over to the nearest crate of first aid supplies, and dug around in it until she found a suture and thread. She pulled up her tattered shirt and leant over so that the wound closed up, before steadying her hand, taking a deep breath, and sewing it shut. She winced at the odd sensation, but kept threading it through regardless, and by the time Sam returned, she was tying off the last of the thread.

'Your poor old jacket looks pretty hard done-by,' he joked, draping it over her shoulders. 'I think you might need a new one.'

'No,' Kathryn replied, gratefully stuffing her arms into the sleeves. 'It's not on its last legs just yet. Besides, I just got it back. I'm not chucking it.'

'What do you mean?' he asked, taking the bloody suture from her and wiping it clean.

'I lost it when I got the Curse. Liam found it, and the Greymanes mailed it over to me.'

'Huh.' His eyebrows travelled up his forehead, and he suddenly looked rather interested. 'That's a bit odd.'

Kathryn paused, watching him apprehensively. 'What?'

He shrugged, before saying, 'It's funny how he keeps popping up in your life, even though he's been gone for a good while.'

She frowned. 'And your point is?'

'It's just strange, because I'd think most people would have moved on by now.'

'Why the hell do you care so much?'

'Because it's still obviously hurting you, even if you don't seem to realise it.'

'It doesn't _hurt_ ,' she snapped. 'Don't be stupid.'

'There's nothing wrong with that. It's just -'

'It's _weak_.'

'How on Azeroth is it weak?'

She snorted. 'You know the answer to that. It's so typical – a girl pining over the loss of her lover, and not strong enough to fend for herself; like she can't live without him. It's pathetic. _I'm_ not pathetic.'

'It's not pathetic.'

'Yes it _is_.'

'Then let me help you.'

'You can't. I should have done it for myself, a long time ago. But this time I couldn't. And you know why? It's because every _single_ day, I have a constant reminder of what happened. I had a _baby_ always looking at me with a face exactly like his, telling me each and every second how much I _screwed up_.' She stopped, her chest heaving. 'I couldn't save him,' she said in a faint whisper. 'I found a reason to love, and I couldn't _save it, Lightdamnit!_ '

There was a long moment of silence. Sam simply watched her, before carefully reaching out and clasping her tiny hand in his own calloused one. 'You're allowed to miss him, you know,' he said quietly.

Kathryn opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted as Darius Crowley burst into the camp in worgen form, before transforming and looking around, eyes furious.

'Lorna!' he called. Kathryn quickly got to her feet and hurried over to him.

'She's out scouting,' she said, getting his attention. 'She should be back soon.'

He swore viciously. 'They've burned down Pyrewood.'

She froze. 'What?'

'The moment we took over, they sent in troops to burn the whole place to the ground. We've lost that foothold.'

Kathryn growled in frustration. 'I'll go find her,' she said, and then leaving him behind, strode out into the trees.

She had barely reached the wall when she found Lorna hurrying back toward the camp, lantern in hand.

'Kathryn!' she hissed, looking furious. 'Kathryn!' When they were finally face to face, she cried, 'They burned down Pyrewood!'

'We know,' Kathryn replied. 'Come on, we've got to get back to camp.'

When they reached the semi-secluded spot Lorna's tent was picketed in, she rounded on Kathryn.

'What the hell are we going to do now?' she asked. 'We lost a lot of men there.'

'I don't know,' Kathryn admitted. 'But -' She cut off as she noticed a fresh red spot appearing on her shirt. 'Oh, not again.' She looked at Lorna. 'I'll be back – I just busted a stitch chasing after you.' She then left and went to reclaim the suture from Sam.

Her mind was going at a million miles an hour on the way back. What _were_ they going to do? The Forsaken were just pushing further and further forward, and no matter how hard they tried, the worgen were only going backwards. And now with Godfrey, their chances of destroying Gilneas were even higher than before.

She almost froze as a horrible thought struck her.

What if they lost?

What if Sylvanas managed to take Gilneas? What then? What if –

'So the Banshee Queen has sent assassins?'

Kathryn froze at Lorna's voice through the trees. She padded forward quietly, now on her guard.

'Lorna, is that how you greet old friends?' a low, snide voice replied. Kathryn threw a hand over her mouth as she recognised it, to keep from gasping.

Godfrey.

'Godfrey?' Lorna asked, also noticing. 'So the rumours _are_ true.' She gave a short laugh. 'You would betray your kingdom out of spite?'

'My kingdom?' he said, as Kathryn finally reached the edge of the clearing. 'My kingdom is no more. Your father and Greymane saw to that . . .'

There were four figures surrounding Lorna. Their familiarity registered in Kathryn's mind, and after a short moment, she was able to put names to three of them – Lord Godfrey, Lord Walden, and Baron Ashbury. Two of those men she had killed herself. The fourth she did not know. He too was undead, and wearing a dark tabard with the crest of the Forsaken stamped on it. One of the Dark Lady's favoured, it seemed.

'No, Gilneas died when they allowed murderous beasts to reign free,' Godfrey continued. ' _Unchecked.'_ His tone became pointed, and he then turned, looking straight at Kathryn where she was hiding. 'Hello, _Bitch_.'

Kathryn growled, stepping out from the trees and moving to Lorna's side. This didn't seem to bother Godfrey in the slightest.

'Now lay down your arms and surrender,' he ordered. 'We are not here to kill you. Not yet.'

Lorna let out a sharp bark of laughter. 'HAH! You'll _have_ to kill me!'

Kathryn then swiftly leapt forward in contradiction to the both of them, and grabbed the fourth man by the throat. ' _Die_ ,' she hissed, digging her nails into the flesh that remained.

'Very well,' Godfrey replied, drawing his sword. 'Have it your way.'

Chaos broke loose.

Kathryn switched to worgen form and tried to rip the man's head off, but he wrestled out of her grip and smacked her in the chest with his staff. An unbearable wave of heat surged through her and she cried out in pain, before retaliating by grabbing his wrist in a death grip. There was a crunching sound, followed by a horrible pop, and his hand came clean off.

Whether he felt pain at that or not, she did not know. He simply conjured a ring of fel fire around her feet and summoned his voidwalker, before turning his attentions to Lorna.

Lorna was fighting valiantly, fighting three men at once with only two swords to aid her, though now the warlock had joined the battle, perhaps the tide might turn.

The voidwalker grabbed the entirety of Kathryn's face in its flickering hand, and then all she could feel was the searing pain.

 _Fire._

 _Pain._

 _Death._

 _BURNING._

 _Crushing._

 _Consuming._

 _Torture._

 _DIE._

She screamed, trying to claw it off to no avail. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear, she couldn't think about anything except how much it _hurt_ , and it was getting into her head – it wouldn't go away, she couldn't stop it –

And then the worst of it vanished in a sudden surge. The voidwalker released her, and she fell to the ground in a trembling heap. She was still blinded. She heard Lorna cry out somewhere nearby, and then a heavy thump.

' _Quickly!_ ' someone hissed. 'We must head back to the Forsaken Front before we are discovered!'

 _No_.

'Don't!' she rasped, her throat raw from screaming. Barely anything came out. 'Lorna!'

She tried to reach out in her direction, but her hand only fell loosely on a dropped sword. Even this simple motion resulted in a small sob of pain, and she went limp.

She was still trembling, and it felt like fire continued to dance across her skin – but it went further than that, extending from her very bones. It numbed her mind.

All was silent.

It felt like she lay there for hours, though it really couldn't have been more than a minute. Then several heavy footsteps came crashing through the trees. She began to steadily lose consciousness as she heard someone roar her name. The voice was familiar, but her addled mind could not recognise it. She was scooped up in a pair of huge, muscled arms, and her vision became somewhat less cloudy for a split second, enough for her to see an eyepatch, and think a simple name.

 _Crowley_.

Everything went dark.

* * *

 **Lorna**

 _Anar'alah . . . anar'alah . . . belore . . . Sin'dorei . . ._

'Onward! We will beat back the Alliance dogs and secure Lordaeron for the Forsaken! For the Horde!'

 _. . . shindu fallah na . . . Sin'dorei . . . anar'alah . . . shindu Sin'dorei . . ._

'Lay down your arms and surrender!'

 _. . . shindu fallah na . . . Sin'dorei . . . anar'alah belore . . ._

'I will leave your cities in dust and your lives in ruin!'

 _. . . shindu Sin'dorei . . . shindu fallah na . . ._

'Look at them. They scurry like rats, veering headlong to their doom. Surely Crowley and Bloodfang can see the futility in this!'

 _. . . Sin'dorei . . . anar'alah belore . . ._

'To the Greymane Wall! We will force their hand.'

 _. . . belore . . ._

* * *

 **Kathryn**

And then there was Light.

Like a shockwave, a surge of power shot through her chest, rejuvenating her faster than she ever would have thought possible. She let out a gasp and sat up abruptly, breast heaving and static crackling through her.

'It worked!' someone cried. 'Light praise you!' She was then enveloped in a crushing hug by a goliath of a man, much to her chagrin. She reacted with a noise that sounded like a mouse being trodden on, and he released her suddenly.

'Darius,' she wheezed, still trying to catch her breath.

'You're alive,' he said, a grin splitting his face. 'Thank the Light, Elune - hell, all of them! We thought we'd lost you.'

'What -' She cut off and winced as she suddenly became aware of a pain in her ribs, before continuing. She looked around, realising that she was in the First Aid tent. 'What happened?'

The smile fell a little. 'You tell me. All we heard was the screaming, and came to find you unconscious, with a hand-shaped burn on your face.'

Kathryn's fingers leapt up to assess the damage, before the healer, who had been standing nearby, assured her there was nothing remaining of it.

'You're lucky reinforcements arrived, with priests among them.'

'Was I . . . was I dead?'

'No,' the priest said, albeit a little gravely. 'But you were on the verge of it.'

She exhaled, trying to gather her thoughts, before her heart lurched in her chest.

' _Lorna!_ ' she cried. 'Where's Lorna?'

Panic immediately crossed Darius' face. 'What happened?' he asked quickly. 'Kathryn, _what happened?_ '

'Ambush,' she coughed, terror building in her chest. ' _Kidnapped -_ '

'Lorna.' His voice hardened, and a terrifying light burned in his eyes. ' _Not my Lorna.'_

'Yes -' Her voice shook and cracked, and she bowed her head. 'I'm _so sorry_ , I -'

'Come on.' He picked her up and set her on her feet, before turning to the priest. 'What else can you do for her?'

The man wordlessly gripped his staff, before reaching out, a golden ball of light forming in his hand. He pressed it over Kathryn's heart, and it passed straight into her, sending an intense wave of energy throughout her whole body and sparking at her fingertips.

'The Holy Word of Serenity should keep you on your feet for longer,' he said, before nodding at Darius and taking his leave.

Kathryn gave a short huff of disbelief, and a golden, sparkling cloud escaped her mouth, before fading into nothingness.

'Do you have the strength to move?' Darius asked, looking at her questioningly.

'Yes, easily,' she replied. 'We need to go -'

'- find Lorna.'

'Yes.'

They met up with Ivar Bloodfang ten minutes later at the Greymane Wall, with the news that Sylvanas had launched a full-scale attack, and was now marching forward to meet with them.

'She intends to "negotiate",' Ivar said. 'I do not believe that to be a good prospect.'

'We will hear what she has to say,' Darius replied. He had not mentioned Lorna. Kathryn had a feeling they both feared the worst – she was intended to be used as a bargaining chip.

Whatever resulted from this encounter was not going to be good.

'And then what?' Ivar asked. 'If they are terms we cannot accept?'

'Then we shall see.'

There was the sound of galloping approaching from the other side of the wall. Then, it gradually slowed to a halt and called out loudly.

'Crowley, your forces have fallen before my mighty army! You have lost!'

'Come, then,' Darius said in a low voice, and switched to worgen form. Ivar did the same, while Kathryn thought for a short moment, before fading into stealth. She followed slightly behind the two of them as they walked through the colossal gates.

Assembled there was Sylvanas, and a group of about ten troops, all mounted on horseback. At their arrival, the former gracefully slid off, and walked forward to meet them. A hatred she had not quite forgotten burned in the depth of Kathryn's gut.

'It's not over, Sylvanas,' Darius said. 'Not yet.'

Sylvanas cocked her head slightly. 'You frivolously throw away the lives of your people while your own king sits atop his throne of lies, nary lifting a finger to help.' A smirk tugged on her ethereally beautiful face. 'Is Gilneas worth the lives that have been lost? The lives that _will_ be lost? You cannot win.'

' _We will die trying!'_

'And your daughter?' Her tone became softer, but just as deadly. 'You could have saved her . . . You could have offered her your blood, yet you did not. Why?'

Kathryn felt a horrible weight drop inside her. _No_.

The exact same thought had crossed Darius' mind. His tone became urgent, then furious. ' _LORNA?_ What . . . _Where is she? What have you done to her?'_

'Nothing,' Sylvanas replied, 'yet . . .' She inclined her head toward him. 'I now present you with a choice - a choice that I was never given. I offer you the life of Lorna for your unconditional surrender. Choose your next words wisely, Crowley. Deny me and she will serve me in undeath - forever.'

There was a long beat of silence, before she turned to the group. 'Bring her, Godfrey!'

Godfrey then appeared, dragging a blindfolded, struggling Lorna by the hair. He was accompanied by Lord Walden and Baron Ashbury.

Darius became even more enraged. ' _GODFREY!_ You deceitful maggot!'

'Hello, old friend!' Godfrey replied cheerily. He tightened his grip on Lorna, twisting her head in a dangerously unnatural way.

Darius saw this, and pain flickered in his eyes. 'Lorna . . . I . . .' He looked at Sylvanas, his muzzle curling into a snarl. 'Release her. I will sound the retreat.'

Ivar whirled on him, furious. 'You can't be serious, Crowley. You miserable bastard!' He turned and dropped onto all fours, before running back through the gate – perhaps to stop the order before it got out.

'Release her, Godfrey,' Sylvanas said calmly.

'Of course, mistress.' He loosened his grip, and Lorna dropped to the ground with a groan of pain. Several clumps of her hair were still tangled in his bony fingers. She got to her feet and ran to her father.

'Now leave here, Crowley, and never return,' Sylvanas said, her voice laced with venom. 'Lordaeron belongs to the Forsaken.'

Darius drew Lorna close to him. 'Forgive me, daughter . . .'

The two of them left, following Ivar. Kathryn at first intended to follow, but her curiosity caused her to stay and watch how events were going to unfold now. Sylvanas turned back to her group, and now Kathryn was much closer to her than before. The anger simmering within her suddenly sparked, and she moved quickly on her feet, drawing a knife from her boot. She circled about Sylvanas, taking care not to stand on any twigs or leaves, and once she was standing directly behind the Banshee Queen, prepared to strike.

What she didn't know was that the elf had the aid of spirits. She was suddenly engulfed in a freezing white mist, and the stealth was broken. A painful pressure began to build up in her skull, consuming her mind. She let out a tiny gasp, and the knife fell limply from her stiff fingers.

Sylvanas' escort all let out shouts of hostility and drew their weapons. She slowly turned around to see Kathryn drop to the ground, face screwed up in pain. Her eyebrows arched in pleasant surprise. 'And what do we have here?' she asked, her voice raised in faux delight. 'An assassin?'

She reached out and grabbed Kathryn by the wrist and hauled her roughly to her feet. Her freezing gauntlets made Kathryn's wrist joint ache, and she tried her hardest not to wince. She raised her head and looked Sylvanas right in the face. 'Does that surprise you, bitch?'

'Such a tongue for one so small.' Then, recognition sparked in her glowing red eyes. 'You're the pretty boy's lover. The Greymane brat. Ah.' Her grip tightened as Kathryn struggled, and she drew her against her chest, placing a knife at her throat. 'Annoying little whelp,' she added, slightly quieter. 'He got in the way. Quite like you.' She looked up at the group, and three ghostly-looking women with wings that Kathryn hadn't noticed before. 'My thanks, Arthura. This one has a bone to pick with me. Here, Godfrey.' She threw Kathryn roughly to the ground. 'A replacement for the Crowley girl.'

'Of course, my lady.' He grabbed Kathryn before she could disappear, and bound her hands tightly with a coarse rope. He then gave her to the fourth man who had been present at Lorna's kidnapping.

Sylvanas raised her head. 'SOLDIERS OF THE HORDE! WE ARE VICTORIOUS! LORDAERON IS W –'

 _Bang!_

The Banshee Queen crumpled to the ground, a bullet straight through her brain. Lord Godfrey was standing at the other end of the gun. He brought it to his mouth and blew away the wisp of smoke trailing from it.

A dark orc who had been standing nearby and watch the proceedings turned to him, furious. ' _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, GODFREY?'_

'Something that should have been done a long time ago, you filthy animal,' he snarled in return. 'Gilneas belongs to me, and so soon will the rest of Lordaeron!' He looked at both the orc and the spirit-women. ' _NOW JOIN YOUR MISTRESS IN DEATH!'_

Chaos broke loose. Kathryn was thrown to the side as her captor leapt at Godfrey in an attempt to fight him off, and she hit the ground with a heavy thump. Her nose hit a rock and began gushing blood in a steady stream. She coughed in shock and tried to roll out of the way of the brawl that had begun, her head spinning.

'FALL BACK, BROTHERS!' Godfrey shouted. 'TO SHADOWFANG! This land will quiver and shake in the wake of our destruction!' He, Lord Walden, and Baron Ashbury all fled.

The orc whirled on one of the spirit-women. 'Fix her,' he growled. '. . . FIX HER!'

'We are bound to her, sisters . . .' one said. Their voices were strange, musical yet harsh. Kathryn was slightly disorientated just hearing it. She didn't resist as Lorna's kidnapper hauled her to her feet and kept a firm grip on her.

'It will destroy us, sister . . .' another said.

'It is our sacred duty,' put forth the third. 'The pact was sealed, the bargain made . . .'

'Then let it be done,' the first replied. The three of them began to shimmer ethereally, and then in a burst of light, disappeared. Sylvanas' crumpled form lit up with a white light, and life was suddenly returned to her. She coughed, and staggered to her feet.

'I saw . . . only darkness.' Her voice cracked slightly. Kathryn thought for a split second that it was in fear. 'And as I drifted towards nothingness, a brilliant light appeared, then another, and another . . . My dear val'kyr.' She swallowed, looking at her only Forsaken companion that remained. 'I know now - beyond a shadow of a doubt - that the val'kyr are our future. We will never stop fighting for Lordaeron. Never . . .'

* * *

 **9/11/16**


	13. Humanity

**Still here. Have a chapter.**

* * *

 _ **13 – Humanity**_

 **Kathryn**

In all its time, the wall never changed. If she closed her eyes, she could visualise every single chip, crack, and spot of moss. The drips of water she could hear in the back of her subconscious were painfully irregular. Occasionally, water would trickle through a hole in the wall and soak into her clothes, yet she made no effort to move.

Not that she could have if she had wanted.

The shackles that bound her wrists were heavy, with rough edges that dug into her flesh whenever she shifted. A glyph was scribed on them, to keep her from slipping into stealth. She had tried all means of escape that she could possibly think of, but nothing had come of her efforts.

From what she had gathered, she wasn't in the Undercity. What little air that filtered into her cell felt far too fresh, and the only commotion she could hear was far below her. Deep in the ground, the regular clanking of machinery and chains could be heard dully where she sat. Applying what little she knew about the fallen land of Lordaeron, she came to the conclusion that she was being held in the original city – the ruins above the Forsaken capital, and not far from where its last king, Terenas Menethil, was murdered by his own son.

At least, that was what she thought.

She had no indication of how much time had passed since she was incapacitated at the Greymane Wall. Though she could smell clean air, the flickering torch just outside her door was the only source of light she had. The remains of a solitary meal sat by her feet, which she had reluctantly picked at to sustain her consciousness. There was nothing she could do to help her parched throat. With that, she decided it couldn't have been more than two days. She hadn't seen a single face – dead or alive – that whole time.

Until now.

She heard the click of boots upon stone somewhere to her left, and she jolted upright, eyes wild and searching. The sound drew nearer, and she found her head jerking the tiniest bit in time with the footsteps.

 _Click. Click. Click. Click._

She tried her best to stretch upwards and peer out of the small set of bars set into the door, however her raw wrists kept that from happening quite as she would have liked. She hissed in pain, and reluctantly parked herself in the corner of her cell, curling up like a very upset cat. The footsteps came to a stop right outside the door, and an order was muttered in a low, indistinguishable voice. Then she heard a key in the door, before it swung open with a spine-tingling creak.

A figure wrapped up in a hooded cloak strode into the cell, shutting the door carefully behind them. Kathryn couldn't see very well in the dim lighting, but she could tell that the figure was slim, and somewhat familiar. They carried a lantern with them, a warm fire burning within. It seemed wrong in such a miserable place. The figure placed the lantern on the ground, along with a waterskin and a small cup of broth. Kathryn only burrowed further into herself like some strange animal, pointedly making sure they knew she wasn't interested. However, then they did something that surprised her. The shadow of their figure sat down before her, the steel framework of their boots clinking and scraping dully against the stone floor.

They were level.

'Resisting interaction will not make your . . . _stay_ any easier for you.' Sylvanas' voice echoed strangely off the stone walls, and she drew back the hood to reveal her shadowy face. Kathryn, who was now peering at her from beneath her arm, snarled. A tiny smirk pulled on the elf's lips.

'Is it true, then? Do you become one with the wolf inside? Or . . . does it only take over?'

Kathryn didn't respond. Her nose twitched, and her fingers tensed with the desire to wrap themselves around the Banshee Queen's throat.

'We shall see, I suppose,' Sylvanas continued. Her voice was soft, unnervingly so, and she didn't seem particularly concerned about getting an answer from her prisoner. 'You will have to show your true self with time. All it will need is a little provocation.'

'You cannot _provoke_ me,' Kathryn snapped, before realising the irony of her mistake a moment too late. Sylvanas merely smiled again, her eyes hard and cold.

'Again, we shall see.'

'What do you want?' Kathryn asked carefully. 'Why haven't you killed me yet?'

Sylvanas closed her eyes for a brief moment, and the dark bruises beneath her eyes became more apparent. Kathryn wondered for a brief moment if she was capable of sleep. It wasn't really something she had given thought to before. She did not voice her question, and remained silent until the other woman spoke again. 'You are not dead because I have not allowed it – for the meantime. I sense that you may prove to be a useful asset.' She paused, surveying Kathryn in all of her filthy, bloodstained glory. 'While Crowley may have surrendered, there is still Genn Greymane to consider.' Here, she inclined her head, and Kathryn finally succumbed to her strange desire to look her in the eyes. Red met green. 'You are his weakness.' Neither of them glanced away. 'With you in my possession, I can force him into _anything_.'

Kathryn flinched.

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes, knowing she had won, and finally turned her head away. 'That fool has come to consider you his own daughter. If I merely choose to pull the same threads as I did with the Crowleys . . . then I am sure you can come to your own conclusions.'

'But you can't,' Kathryn replied shortly. 'You and I both know that worgen cannot become Forsaken. That's a crucial part of the Curse.' A tiny grin tugged on her lips, despite the severity of the situation. 'Thus, one of your "threads" have been cut.'

Sylvanas did not seem affected by this. 'You cannot cut what nary existed, child.' Her voice was soft, and she tilted her head slightly toward her. Kathryn swallowed painfully as Sylvanas' eyes drifted over her once more, and tried to shake the feeling that the Banshee Queen could see right through her. 'No, you may not be able to make that physical change, yet there is that possibility you could be . . . persuaded . . . to join our cause.'

How dare she.

How _dare_ she.

'Why the _hell_ would I do that?' Kathryn asked tightly, trembling with suppressed rage. 'You killed the only man I have ever loved, right before my very eyes! You destroyed my homeland, before taking it from me, and blackmailed Darius to keep us from fighting back! Now you sit here, honestly thinking that I could ever _join you_ , and put all of that aside?'

All was silent, save for Kathryn's heavy breathing. Then Sylvanas began to laugh softly. Simply hearing it was like a slap in the face.

'You truly think you have a choice in this?' she asked. 'I also believed that, once. I was young and foolish, just like you. But this is the truth of it – you cannot fight. Your resolve may hold out for many a year, but in the end you will break. Just as we all do.

'Don't compare yourself to me,' Kathryn replied tightly. 'Whatever you have to say may have some merit, but _never_ say we are alike, you _monster_.'

If any softness could have possibly been seen in Sylvanas' eyes, it disappeared instantly with those words.

'You asked why I have not killed you,' she said, voice devoid of emotion. 'I had my reasons, yet I too am beginning to question them.'

Kathryn snorted, but it went ignored.

'Do not make assumptions before you know the entire story, little one. Do you know anything of us Forsaken, or our connection with the Lich King?'

Kathryn paused. She hadn't been expecting the conversation to turn in this direction, especially when she knew so little of it.

'I know you were . . . servants, at one point,' she started slowly. 'But that is all. I'm sure whatever story you have to tell _won't_ change my views on the situation.'

'Already you are incorrect. "Servants" is far too kind a term. The curse of undeath is something particularly hard to put into words, considering you are raised against your own will, and are under the complete, unshakeable control of Ner'Zhul. Arthas left me with my self-awareness to torment me further – so I could see myself _slaughter_ those I had known in life, and be one who burned Quel'Thalas to ashes.'

'Arthas,' Kathryn repeated in a low voice. ' _He's_ the reason you are here?'

Sylvanas tilted her head, so slightly it was almost unnoticeable. 'You were not already aware?'

She scoffed. 'Does it look like I actively give a toss about your life, or how you've come to plague mine?'

The Banshee Queen raised a solitary eyebrow. 'These are all pieces to a larger tale. Perhaps if you came to know of what happened years ago, you may understand – albeit reluctantly – why I had to take Gilneas, and how Greymane's whelp was killed in the process. I am sure that part will be of greater interest to you.'

Kathryn's eyes widened a little. 'You think you can _actually_ convince me that killing Liam was _reasonable?_ That I could _understand?_ No.' She shook her head aggressively. ' _No_. You took away the _only_ thing I had. I can never forgive you for that.'

'I never claimed it was reasonable,' Sylvanas replied tightly. 'You are not the only one who has suffered, child. I lost _everything_ when Arthas raised me as a banshee. I am a creature driven by hate, who forces others to feel the very pain that I do. I have very little choice in this, as it is a _part_ of me now. I do not expect your acceptance of this, but at least know that it is unchangeable – that would make further negotiation much easier.'

There was a beat of silence. The two women regarded each other, neither's face betraying any emotion. When she was not moving, Sylvanas was like stone, cool and unblinking, with her mouth at a slight natural downturn. Kathryn fought the urge to reach out and touch her; to see if she really was as cold as she seemed. Instead she adjusted her sitting position so that she was cross-legged with her hands in her lap. She wanted to say something that would convey exactly what she thought about "negotiation", except that she could not put it into words. Then, she contemplated curling up in a ball and not responding until Sylvanas left – until she realised that most likely would not work. So, she settled with making a witty, sarcastic comment about her current situation.

What came out instead was: 'Do you ever get fevers?'

Whatever Sylvanas had been expecting, it most certainly wasn't that. To be honest, Kathryn wasn't expecting it either. A strange crease formed between the Dark Lady's eyebrows, and surprised amusement flitted across her face for a very brief moment. She let out a tiny huff that, if one was sufficiently drunk, could be mistaken for a laugh.

'I believe you may want to be a little more specific when speaking of "fevers",' she finally said. 'What do you mean – the Plague I deploy?'

Kathryn shook her head, still marvelling at her own lapse of stupidity. 'No, natural illnesses. You know, like influenza, smallpox, the common cold . . . resurrection sickness? I've heard that's a thing.'

'I would not consider resurrection sickness to be natural,' Sylvanas replied, 'but to answer your question, no. Undeath prevents the body from easy subjection to diseases.'

'Huh.' Kathryn folded her arms (as best as she could in her current situation) and stared her down with a lofty gaze. 'That is unfortunate.'

Sylvanas was not deterred by the sudden change of conversational course. 'Hardly. The pathetic level of immunity your race possesses toward such things is your downfall, and ultimately, beneficial to my cause.'

'It is also yet another reason to prove the Forsaken barely have a shred of humanity left within them – if any,' Kathryn retorted sharply, rising on her knees. Though she knew her eyes were burning with considerable fury, it was barely a fraction of what lay within her – what she was prepared to unleash at any given moment.

'Your humanity is your weakness,' Sylvanas replied in a low voice, leaning forward so that she and Kathryn were almost nose-to-nose. She carefully drew her blade; a beautifully ornate thing with a barbed edge on one side, which seemed almost to glow an eerie green. 'You must understand that. Should I choose to kill you, I can simply raise you again as one of my own soldiers. The same rule applies to every man, woman and child you lose in the petty wars you fight. I did it to Godfrey without feeling a shred of remorse. I can do the same to you.'

'Then go ahead,' she whispered. 'I'd like to see you _try.'_

Sylvanas remained as impassive as ever, though later, Kathryn would realise, something almost like recognition flickered in her eyes. This was where it all began to unravel.

She pushed upward and caught Sylvanas in a searing kiss, swinging her manacles through the sword to grab her face with an unyielding level of force. The magic embedded within the blade burned away the chain, causing each individual link to explode, until all that was left was the single scrap of metal embedded into the wall.

Sylvanas was cold – freezing, in fact – but wherever Kathryn touched, warmth spread like wildfire. Her lips however, burned.

This was different to Liam. _So different_. Liam was calloused and gentle, each kiss so very careful, almost as if he were afraid he would break her. Sylvanas was uncannily smooth, with the sharpest edges yet the softest skin, unflawed and ever perfect in death, but pushed with no fear.

This, seemingly, wasn't something the Banshee Queen had been braced for. Yet, though this was clearly an action of utter madness, she did not reject the kiss, but instead returned it. She took Kathryn in a fierce grip, one hand at the corner of her jaw, the other hooking around her waist and drawing her closer. Hands roamed with bruising pressure, nails catching on skin and fingers tangling in hair; rough, heated, and _desperate_.

And yet, it wasn't.

With all the adrenaline she could muster, Kathryn hooked her foot around behind Sylvanas' knees and kicked sharply, catching her off guard. They were pulled apart as she caught her balance with a surprising amount of grace. The sword clattered to the ground, and Kathryn levied it up with the toe of her boot and tossed it upward, before catching it in her right hand.

But, it seemed, Sylvanas wasn't as unprepared as she had thought.

'You play dirty games, worgen,' Sylvanas said in a low voice, the tiniest of smirks pulling on the corners of her lips. She seemed remarkably unperturbed considering what had just transpired.

'I learned from the best,' Kathryn replied, her voice gravelly and harsh. She tightened her grip on the hilt of the blade. 'And I believe now would be a convenient time to find out what this bastard can do.'

'I would not be so foolish if I were you.'

'Funny thing about me – I've never really been one to consider logic.' Kathryn grinned, feral and somewhat deranged. 'Remarkable snog, by the way. But I still want to see you dead.'

'That hardly surprises me.' Sylvanas snapped her fingers, and the chains began to reform, glowing red like heated steel. 'Yet you cannot win.'

'Perhaps I know that,' Kathryn shot back in a harsh whisper. 'But that does not mean I cannot take you down with me.' And with that, she hurled the blade.

Sylvanas dodged it easily, just as Kathryn knew she would. It skimmed past her shoulder, the sheer heat of it singeing the Dark Lady's flesh, before it buried itself deep in the door.

The wood burst into flames.

Sylvanas, who had seemed triumphant for a split second, whirled around in fury, her beautiful features contorted in a terrifying snarl. Kathryn smirked unnervingly, completely aware there was no sanity to her actions. Regardless, she did not care.

' _Give my regards to hell, bitch.'_

The flames spread quickly, obviously the product of some dark magic, for they consumed the cobblestones as though they were drenched in oil; across the walls, up to the ceiling, completely unstoppable. Sylvanas reached out and firmly pressed two fingers against Kathryn's temple, and suddenly everything went black.

Terror was all she felt then. An eerie singing filled her head, consuming her mind and leaving no room for thought. Above it all rose a single, clear voice, crying out to the heavens.

'Val'kyr ama noral'arkhana! Anar'alah belore, aranal an bash'a no falor talah!'

Something reached into her chest and closed an icy fist around her heart, drawing her upwards. The pain was unbearable, worse than anything she could comprehend, yet Kathryn could not scream. It lifted her, well into the unknown, before letting go, sudden and sharp.

All was silent.

* * *

 **13/2/17**


	14. Blood and Sand

**Oy, it's been a while, huh?**

 **Sorry about that. This was a really weird, complex sort of chapter to write. And to be fair, double the usual size, so . . .**

* * *

 **Graphic gore warning.**

* * *

 _ **14 – Blood and Sand**_

 **Kathryn**

Drowning.

Burning.

Fight it.

 _Fight it._

 _DIE -_

And then, suddenly, she could breathe.

With a heaving gasp, Kathryn bolted upright, looking about wildly. She couldn't see; her vision swam, engulfed in blackness, and it bloody _hurt –_

'So, you live.'

Her stomach lurched sickeningly at the familiarity, and she drew in a sharp breath. The rich tang of kingsblood hung in the air, and it felt as though the scent filled her body, soothing every ache and calming each nerve. Something about almost felt like _home_ , like she was safe, and yet it frightened her.

'Where the hell are we?' she asked quietly, turning her head toward the voice. 'And _how_ are we alive?'

'Your deranged actions left little time for thinking,' Sylvanas replied in a tone that was almost _haughty_ , 'but you may thank my val'kyr for not letting you burn.'

Slowly, the blood began to leave her head, and Kathryn's vision swam with spots, gradually becoming clearer. They were in a small, rounded stone chamber, the walls strewn with sheer, silky drapes in the colours of the Quel'dorei. Ornate silver braziers crackled with blue fire, filling Kathryn with a surreal warmth that somehow drowned out the cold she had felt in sleep. Upon looking around, she realised she had been lying in a low daybed with a wrought iron frame of branches that twisted and looped around. Across the chamber, there was a simple chair and writing desk. Sylvanas perched on the desk, watching Kathryn from afar as she tried to get a grasp of where she was.

It was too warm to be the Undercity. _Surely_. Something about the place even made her think of Silvermoon and the high elves, yet somehow that wasn't right.

'I prefer to keep my chambers reminiscent of who I was in life,' Sylvanas said simply, as though reading Kathryn's mind. 'Your little . . . _fire_ was quickly contained, though your actions go to assure that I must now keep a closer eye on you. You may yet prove to be valuable.'

She watched the Dark Lady with narrowed eyes. 'You lie.'

'Of course,' Sylvanas replied simply. 'But you have no way of telling what _about_.' She slid off the desk and stepped lightly on the floor, before striding over to Kathryn, hips swaying and head aloft – the stance of a warrior who knew she'd won. Kathryn let out a low, guttural growl of hostility, and stood up so that they were level.

'What do you _want_ , woman?' she snapped. ' _What_ is it about me that you find _so_ entertaining?'

The corner of her mouth twitched derisively. 'I desire many things, child. Yet, you fail to be as useful as I would like.' She paused a few feet away from Kathryn, and surveyed her in a slightly bored manner. 'I suppose you ought to know Crowley's brat stopped to visit.'

And just like that, Kathryn felt like the floor had dissolved beneath her. She tried her hardest not to flinch, but the slightest expression of horror must have shown on her face, as Sylvanas' eyebrows arched in amusement. Kathryn somehow found she did not care, as her head was now spinning wildly with a sudden onslaught of panic.

 _Lorna._

Her voice was a stony whisper when she spoke. ' _What did you do, wretch?'_

Sylvanas was an impassive woman. Face devoid of all emotion, she simply tilted her head ever so slightly to the side and watched Kathryn with her eerie red eyes. She said nothing.

Kathryn knew there was a sick kind of satisfaction behind it all. With movement so fast she even startled herself, her hand shot out and locked in an iron grip around the Banshee Queen's wrist.

' _What did you do?_ ' she repeated, her words becoming a growl. 'Speak!'

Yet she did not. Her face remained carefully blank for several seconds, yet she did not break away from Kathryn's gaze. Then, slowly, the corners of her lips curled.

A sick heaviness settled in Kathryn's stomach. 'What. Did. You. _DO?_ ' She dug her nails into the cold, dead flesh of Sylvanas' arm, and felt slightly horrified as they broke the skin. Blood so red it was almost black spilled from the crevices and trickled down her fingers, cold as ice. Sylvanas watched as Kathryn valiantly did her best not to shudder with surprise, before she pried her grip away with infuriating ease. Kathryn flexed her hand and cringed in revulsion as the darkness staining it glistened in the light. Sylvanas massaged her bruised arm absently with her other hand, stemming the blood flow. She finally spoke.

'I have not done anything. However, I cannot promise she has not been _dealt with_.'

Those words chilled Kathryn more than icy blood ever could.

* * *

 **Lorna**

'You will not find what you seek, Crowley.'

Though the voice froze Lorna to the core, there really was no surprise by it. The arrival of one of the Banshee Queen's champions had to be expected.

The sewers connecting the chambers of the Undercity reeked like nothing she could comprehend, but after a few minutes blocking out the stench of rotting flesh, it became easier to ignore. The toxic green sludge that was gradually eating away at her boots, however . . . that was something else.

She raised her head, pointedly not turning to see who had arrived behind her. Somehow, it gave her more courage than she'd had before.

'And what gives you reason to believe that, scum?'

The dire voice gave a low, disinterested laugh. 'The worgen runt is gone. The imbecile set her own cell on fire, and needless to say did not escape.'

Lorna's heart felt as though it had been pierced by a shard of ice. Yet, somehow those words sounded ever more vicious from her assailant's mouth. She schooled her face into an impassive expression, and steadied her breathing with a practised manner. 'Who are you?'

Though it was a question, it came out sounding more like a statement. His boots clinked against the stone, kicking up more of the sludge and sending it rolling over Lorna's boots like water. The cool tip of a blade pressed against her spine.

'Nathanos Blightcaller. You threaten the safety of my queen, Crowley, so it is _my_ blade you will die by.'

'You don't dictate when I will die,' Lorna snapped, and spun around with quick efficiency. Her gaze was met with pale, unseeing eyes, their irises dulled to a washed-out yellow. Nathanos had a sharp, structured face with leathery skin of a sickly grey, faded by years. The flesh guarding his eye sockets was missing – the dry bone left in its place was bloodstained, though old. His veined, rotting mouth was contorted into a twisted and cruel smirk as he surveyed her, seemingly amused by Lorna's apparent lack of grandeur.

She was struck with a sickening sense of familiarity. 'I know you,' she whispered. 'You came from the Plaguelands.'

Nathanos traced along her throat with the tip of his knife, his expression unreadable. He said nothing.

Lorna did her best not to flinch, but she felt her stomach muscles tremble as realisation flooded her mind.

'It's been so, _so_ long,' she whispered, 'but I remember your vile face.'

Something that could be considered a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. 'I _do_ leave a lasting impression, don't I?' he mused. Lorna breathed in sharply as she felt the blade split her skin. She stepped back and raised her chin imperiously.

'You killed her,' she said, resisting the urge to vomit. Her voice shook as she forced out the words, hardly believing herself as she realised _this was it_. This was _him_. 'Fourteen years ago, you and your foul abominations came, and you _butchered_ my mother.'

She remembered that day like it was yesterday. Elizabeth Crowley and Anna Weiss had taken Lorna down to the northern shore where, if you knew where the water was shallowest, you could get out past the wall and into Silverpine Forest. At the opposite end of the wall were the beginnings of the Western Plaguelands. Just before there, however, where the forest was still green, flowers grew.

Kathryn hadn't come with them that day. She had been taken ill with a fever, and Anna had spent the last week indoors, tending to her night and day, just trying to get it to break. Gwen Armstead had sent her away, telling her to get some fresh air, and looked after the seven-year old herself.

Lorna's only clue that something was wrong was that the birds had stopped singing.

The two women had exchanged a worried glance. Elizabeth had taken Lorna's hand and suggested that she should see if she could find something interesting in the crop of trees by the gate. Lorna had thought that was a brilliant idea. She didn't think much of it as they drew swords strapped at their hips. So she had run off, hoping she might be able to find those pretty flowers she knew Mum loved, and maybe they could put them in a vase when they went home.

She had been gone about a minute when she heard a bloodcurdling scream.

Lorna remembered looking around in fear, dropping the armful of flowers she carried, and shouting for her mother. She got no reply, and when she screamed again, two figures had stumbled through the trees, one clearly supporting the other.

'Lorna!' Anna cried, as her face became visible. She hadn't seemed hurt, but Mum . . .

Elizabeth Crowley wasn't a woman to be trifled with. But just looking at her, Lorna knew someone had _dared._

Admittedly, it wasn't the first time she had seen gore. On more than one occasion, she had cried herself to sleep because a mountain worg had broken into the paddock and torn a horse to pieces. But this was the first time she had seen the victim _alive_.

Elizabeth had been stumbling, almost drunkenly, one arm strewn over Anna's shoulders, and the other wrapped around her midriff, trying to keep her innards from spilling out through her fingers. Lorna had screamed and run to her mother, but turned around almost as quickly when an enormous, hulking monstrosity burst through the foliage, followed by an undead man atop a skeletal horse. The man raised his bow, and with a sharp _twang_ , an arrow was imbedded deep in Anna's hip. She cried out and stumbled, still trying to keep Elizabeth upright, and Lorna had no idea what to do.

Never again did she feel fear quite the same as she had that day.

She remembered screaming. _So much screaming._ Then Gilnean men had burst through the trees, and they fought the abominations away, slashing and hacking with their rapiers.

One of them scooped Lorna up in his arms and carried her back to the gate, kicking and screaming as she watched her mother fall to the ground, blood pooling around her. She was carried away by another man, and Anna a third.

The one thing Lorna had never been able to shake free of since that day was the malicious, dead face of the man who shot Anna.

Elizabeth was declared dead the moment they were back in Gilneas. Anna had been poisoned. She died three days later with a high fever and infected bloodstream. Darius, still grieving the loss of his wife, and not wanting to burden Kathryn with the horrific truth, told her it was an illness that took them both. Kathryn was only barely beginning to recover from her own fever, but had at least managed to say goodbye to her mother, the former still terrifyingly weak, and the latter barely conscious from poison.

Kathryn hardly remembered the encounter in the morning, and cried for days. That was unsurprising. She had no family left.

Lorna vaguely remembered a man coming to take the bodies – his face was grave, and his eyes fearsome – saying something about Aderic's Repose, and a proper burial. He carried the two linen-wrapped bodies almost like they were infants, gently and reverently, and put them in the horse-cart by the door. He stopped only to place a gentle kiss atop Anna's cold, grey forehead, and then he was gone.

Kathryn never saw this. After Anna passed, she hid herself away beneath the bedsheets for days on end, and only ate when Gwen forced her to. The Weiss home became cold and unwelcoming without a fire in the hearth, or Anna bustling about, fussing about dirt getting in the linen basket. So Gwen took Kathryn, kicking and screaming back to her home in Duskhaven, and Darius carried Lorna, who was too broken to cry, back to their little farm outside of Pyrewood Village.

That lie stuck. Kathryn never learned what truly became of her mother, and Lorna had learnt to live with her grief for the past fourteen years. She couldn't bring herself to tell the truth.

'I wouldn't remember,' Nathanos said, stepping forward. He tangled a lock of her hair around his bony, dead fingers. 'If I stopped to count the lives of all those I have killed, Sylvanas would have no use for me.'

The sickening feeling of revulsion and hate bubbled in Lorna's stomach, and she snatched away, trying not to wince as the hair tore from her scalp.

'However, as I am feeling quite favourable today . . .' He paused, that very same malicious grin crossing his face. '. . . I am quite willing to draw out your demise as long as you see fit.'

'What do you mean?' Lorna whispered harshly.

'You had better start running.'

* * *

 **Kathryn**

Sylvanas, as it turned out, quickly grew bored with Kathryn's endless questions and chatter. After the latter had shouted and screamed a bit about how much of a bitch the Banshee Queen was, she had parked herself back on the daybed and told her quite flatly, several times over, 'I bloody well know Lorna isn't here, and you've done nothing to hurt her, _or so help me_ your demise will be appallingly gruesome.'

To put it simply, she was scared shitless.

Kathryn never shut up when she was terrified. Fear wasn't something she felt often, but those few times she did, she was either dead silent, or stupidly talkative.

This time, the situation was clearly the latter.

Though her mouth seemingly had a mind of its own, all that was going through her head was _LornaLornaLornaLornaLornaLornaLornaLornaLornaLorna_ , and that probably wasn't going to help anybody, unless Lorna had miraculously somehow learned telepathy while Kathryn was away.

Which was unlikely.

Possible, but unlikely.

Finally, after some particularly ridiculous questions ('Undead can't reproduce, right? Because that would be weird if your guts had been disembowelled in life.'), Sylvanas snapped.

'If you would kindly _shut up_ ,' she said tartly, picking up the nearest shiny object and pelting it at Kathryn's head. Kathryn dodged it easily, realising mid-air that it was a heavy, silver pendant, and caught it as it bounced off the wall behind her. Sylvanas had already turned away, seemingly happy that she was now quiet. Kathryn turned the pendant over in her hands. There was a flawless blue stone set into the front, and it seemed undamaged despite just being thrown. On the back, there was an inscription.

 _To Sylvanas._

 _Love always, Alleria._

Sylvanas' silhouette vanished behind a silk screen. 'I have a meeting with Garrosh tomorrow,' she said, and there was a dull _thunk_ as she kicked off her boots in an almost childlike manner. One of them skidded to a stop in front of Kathryn with a nasty scraping sound. 'However, I doubt he will be particularly favourable toward any cause I present to him should he discover you and the . . . _mishaps_ you have caused.'

'Has _Garrosh_ ever been a favourable individual?' Kathryn muttered snidely, watching the shadow Sylvanas cast on the screen as she shed her armour and deposited it on the ground with a clatter.

'Hardly,' she replied. 'However, he is the Warchief. That is that. And, no doubt, should he learn of you, he will order your execution as easily as he commanded me to invade Gilneas. I will have little choice in the matter, regardless of whether I consider you an interesting . . . pet.'

Kathryn snarled at the "dog" quip, but these days it was more out of reflex than anything else.

'I assure you,' she said tightly, tilting her head and folding her legs beneath her, 'you will become bored very quickly. All I do is cry and throw knives at walls. And try to strangle _you_ every chance I get.'

There was a pause behind the screen, before Sylvanas strode out from behind it, her intimidating armour replaced with a loose-fitting silk blouse and calf-length trousers of a similar make. Kathryn wondered for a brief moment if the undead even needed to sleep. Though, she supposed, the bed she was currently sitting on was probably evident of that.

'Child,' Sylvanas started, still holding her breastplate beneath one arm. She contemplated it momentarily, before tossing it to Kathryn effortlessly. Out of instinct alone, Kathryn caught it. It was clearly of elven-make, and up close, far more intricate and detailed than she had originally thought. She looked back up at the Banshee Queen as she continued to speak. 'You set _half of the upper city_ on fire. Though you are _painfully_ dull in personality, you've been enough of a nuisance to catch my attention for more than a mere second.'

'Why, thank you,' Kathryn replied listlessly.

'And as such, you can find solace in the fact that I have chosen to make your demise somewhat more interesting than say, cutting your head off. Or poisoning you. Or slowly carving you into small, delicate pieces, and feeding you to the darkhounds.' She paused thoughtfully, before striding forward and catching Kathryn's jaw in her firm grasp. Kathryn tried to back away, but somehow found she could not move. She remained rooted where she stood, and could only helplessly glare as Sylvanas surveyed the planes of her face with vague interest, like an artist scrutinising her canvas. 'Though, I will not deny I find that option rather _appealing_ ,' she said in a low voice, tracing a thumb along Kathryn's cheekbone. The girl snarled, baring her teeth instinctively, despite presently lacking the more fearsome type of fang she had in worgen form.

Sylvanas merely quirked an eyebrow.

'It is somewhat a disappointment there will be nothing left of you. I have said before that you would make a formidable ally. If not for your Curse I would have already taken action.'

Kathryn could not hide the visible flinch she gave at those words, their meaning striking at her heart, cold and dire.

'I'm not the one at fault for that,' was all she could say, her words barely coming out in a faint whisper.

Sylvanas said nothing. She absently brushed away the unruly strands of hair that had fallen in Kathryn's face, still studying her. It was silent, save for her erratically beating heart, crashing about in her chest.

She was going to die.

 _She was going to die_.

She was going to _die_ in some sick, sadistic, _twisted_ way, and Sylvanas was doing trivial things like _memorising her face_ or some _shit._

It didn't make sense. The Banshee Queen was the one who was _signing_ her death sentence, and yet she kept Kathryn in her chambers, held conversation with her, and took the time to _look at her_ ; it was all so –

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Kathryn stiffened as realisation rolled over her in a wave; dawning on her so suddenly that she almost gasped.

Of course.

 _Of course._

Of all the possible explanations, Kathryn was surprised . . . in a rather _horrifying_ way . . . that this hadn't occurred to her sooner.

 _She wasn't sane._

It explained nearly _everything_. Horrifically disgusting things had happened to Sylvanas in her life – things so sickeningly _twisted_ that it clearly messed with the inner workings of her mind. Yet she wore her scars like battle paint; trophies to prove she was a survivor of unimaginable horrors, trophies that installed faith and admiration within her people, trophies that showed _she_ suffered _too_.

She had been warped beyond recognition from the high elf she had been in life, forced to slaughter in the name of the Lich King. Torture became who she was. Pain defined her. Her sole purpose was to cause agony and suffering; to rip lives apart and _relish_ in it . . .

She _was_ agony.

She _was_ suffering.

And yet some part of her had held on to the last vestiges of her Quel'dorei upbringing, the vaguest recollection of compassion and humanity – and it showed from time to time, completely unexpected and . . . _human_.

Of course, human wasn't the racially correct word to describe it, but that was all Kathryn could think of. Occasionally the echoes of Sylvanas – the _true_ Sylvanas – would break through, and those were the parts Kathryn almost found herself . . . _liking._ But it was unstable. It was _tragically_ unstable. Right now, the two of them stood face to face, Sylvanas' hand caressing her cheekbone almost like a lover, but once this moment was over . . . Kathryn was going to be _slaughtered_ like an animal.

* * *

Kathryn had never seen a gladiator's pit before, but she was going to take an educated guess and assume _this was one_. About two minutes ago she had been deposited into a small holding cell through a trapdoor in the floor, with a wooden, iron-clasped door as one of its walls. When she peered between the gaps in the wood, she could see the massive expanse of an arena just outside. The stench still _reeked_ of the Undercity, but she had no Lightdamn clue exactly _where_ she was.

Not that it mattered. This would all be over in a few minutes, one way or another.

She was afraid. There was no denying it. She was _so damn terrified_ , not of what would happen in the arena, but of what would happen after. What would become of the remnants of Gilneas Liberation Front? Darius? Lorna? Lorna, who had supposedly _followed_ her to Undercity and might very well be dead.

She thought about the friends she had made while being a part of the Front. Edward and Farley, the good-natured twins who were somewhat troublemakers. Bromley, who was quiet and reserved, but a lethal fighter and one of the best sparring partners Kathryn ever had. Patrick, who, while being a bit of an arse, was really just protective of his friends, and fiercely loyal. And Sam, the closest male friend Kathryn had since Liam, an adorably awkward _dork_ of a man who tried to play tough but really was just a massive sweetheart inside.

 _What would happen to them?_ What were they doing now that the Front was forced to retreat?

Speaking of which . . .

She remembered, vaguely, the sandy haired man she had met one of those nights. He'd been "keeping an old promise", he had said. What ever became of him? Kathryn felt a small twinge of regret that she never found out.

She thought of Genn and Mia, waiting in vain at Stormwind for a city that would never be reclaimed. A king and a queen, with no kingdom to rule. She hoped they would get the letter she wrote them.

She thought of Gwen Armstead, somewhere out in the great unknown; who Kathryn hadn't seen since the miserable day she departed for Aderic's Repose, determined that her son should visit his father's gravestone at least _once_. Gwen, the woman who raised Kathryn as her own, who she selfishly abandoned because she was _too caught up_ in her own head. Gwen, mayor of a town that had long since disappeared beneath the water.

She thought of her son. A little boy who just wanted his mother to come back to him, not knowing that she _never would_. The most _beautiful_ child with his father's kind face and strawberry-blonde hair, and Kathryn's strange green eyes. The baby Kathryn hadn't wanted at first, because the memories he brought were just _too painful_ , but after holding him in her arms she had realised _this is mine, I made this, he's all I have_ , and then just couldn't let him go.

She thought of Liam. That wound wasn't painful, like it once was, and Kathryn remembered him with a small, rueful smile. Though his face was only a hazy silhouette nowadays, and she couldn't recall exactly how his voice sounded, she remembered better than anything how she felt with him. How he, with persistence only _he_ could manage, broke through her barriers and brought light into her life.

He helped her remember how to love.

Kathryn did not know what happened after death, but she believed that in the end, the dead all meet up somewhere. That thought gave her hope.

 _I'll see him again_.

 _I'll see Mama._

Hope was all she needed. She was going to die, and that was okay.

 _It's okay._

The door swung open, and she strode forward to meet her end.

* * *

The arena was huge.

The construct was clearly not human architecture, and had evidently been erected after the fall of Lordaeron. Hundreds upon hundreds of faces blurred together in the tiered seating that nearly reached the concave ceiling, lit up by torches that burned with green flame. The sandy floor of the arena was completely empty save for a dune in the centre, and a deep gutter around the very edges that was filled with slimy water. Numerous wooden doors identical to her own were positioned around the arena. The one across from her, about a hundred metres away, then swung open.

She barely had time to get her bearings before a dark shadow slunk from the depths of the cell. The undead spectators greeted this new arrival with some sort of sadistic delight, roaring with an approval that made Kathryn's heart beat even faster than it already was.

 _Breathe in._

 _Breathe out._

She swore softly as she shape became clearer, slowly stalking her in a practised manner, body low to the ground. The beast's rough, shaggy fur was matted dirt and blood, and its claws sunk deep into the sand as it advanced. Judging by the lack of bulk on the torso, it was female. That meant smaller claws to deal with.

 _Breathe in._

 _Breathe out._

Kathryn had no recollection of the time she had spent as a feral worgen, but in the days after she had been cured, she had certainly felt the toll it took on her body. She had been lean, starved, mangled, bloody and bruised, and that was only after a few months. She had no clue how long this . . . _beast_ had been feral.

 _Breathe in._

 _Breathe out._

'You weren't always like this,' she said as it neared, starting to circle around her. 'You were human once. I know you remember it. _Remember that_.'

The worgen snarled, baring its yellowed fangs. Kathryn flinched, but doggedly continued.

'Y-you had a life, a _home_ – Gilneas probably -'

She stepped sharply backward as the beast continued to advance, wildly searching her brain for _anything_ she could say to get through to it, not wanting to fight unless she absolutely _had to_.

 _Breathe in._

 _Breathe out._

'I know it hurts, it _really does_ ; it feels like you're trapped and everything is closing in on you, a-and there's this horrible sort of pressure on your chest and shoulders, and it _aches -'_

She should have learnt the first time. _Once a beast, always a beast._ The worgen lunged and Kathryn dodged just in time, diving sideways in a roll and forcing herself to change forms as she did so. When she was back on her feet she watched the beast with lupine eyes that weren't quite her own, leaning forward on dog-like legs.

She supposed she should stop calling it "the beast". She was no different.

The two worgen prowled around each other circling in and out, gauging the enemy. Eventually, the other one leapt again.

Kathryn caught it head-on and the two of them hit the ground with a heavy thump, scrabbling for a grip and thrashing violently. She snapped at its throat but was knocked aside, sending them rolling sideways. She leapt again, but the other beast gave her a forceful kick to the chest, throwing her backwards into the sand. She yelped as her back cracked loudly, feeling a jolt of pain shoot down her spine. She rolled to the side, backing away quickly.

Everything seemed to be happening so fast. With adrenaline and fear coursing through her veins, and the audience's cheering a hazy buzz in the back of her mind, Kathryn knew she wouldn't be able to think clearly enough to use tact. She would have to rely on instinct, and instinct alone.

She leapt forward, diving on the other worgen and pinning it to the ground. She snapped at its neck again and barely managed to lock on before it slashed with both claws, slashing deep into the side of her neck, and across the left side of her face.

Searing, white-hot pain assaulted her senses and she toppled backward with a cry, unable to see. She could concentrate well enough to tell that the claw hadn't damaged her eye, but the flesh around it swelled up anyway, and blood spilled down her face in a heavy flow. The injury to her neck however, was another story.

Her vision was already beginning to spin from blood loss. She put a hand to the gushing flow of warm, slippery blood just above her collarbone, where her shoulder joined her neck. The feeling of the severed tendon beneath her fingers was enough to make her heave, and she doubled over, vomiting a disgusting mess of blood and bile. She staggered as she worgen leapt again, knocking her back to the ground. She struggled weakly, realising with hazy resignation that life was slipping away from her, a lot quicker than she would have liked.

Sure, that was fine.

But that didn't mean she was going to die without taking this runt down with her.

With one final burst of energy, Kathryn lunged for the throat once more.

She didn't miss.

She fell backward into the sand with the worgen's windpipe locked in her jaw. The twitching body fell on top of her shortly after, its claws buried deep into her chest cavity.

Kathryn gasped helplessly as fluids began to fill her lungs, and warm liquid bubbled in her throat, frothing and bubbling out of her mouth. She couldn't breathe, and the pain was so intense she couldn't see. She thrashed violently just _wanting it to stop_ . . .

The blood from her face was filling her nose, and it was then that she realised she was _human_ again. That was good. _That was good_. She didn't want to die a beast.

She was dying a human.

A girl.

A scared girl in a world too big for her.

. . . _scared_ . . .

Her back arched violently and the limp body of the worgen rolled off her, though its claws remained buried in her chest. She coughed, and heard the blood gargle in her throat. Her mind was slipping away; she felt herself getting weaker . . . _weaker . . ._

 _die_

 _im sorry_

 _DIE_

 _Youredyingdyingdyingdying_

 _goodbye_

 _die_

 _imsosorryimsosorrysosorry_

 _so_

 _so_

 _sorry_

 _thankyou_

And then . . .

She realised she was crying.

* * *

 **28/6/17**


	15. Redemption

**I literally killed my main character and no one even blinked.**

 **What the hell.**

 **I could legit do anything right now and no one would notice.**

* * *

 _ **15 – Redemption**_

The canals of the Undercity ran red with blood.

The darkhound let out a little whine and turned to his master, waiting for him to join it by the steps that descended into the water, nose twitching. The man peered into the water, squinting his yellowed, decaying eyes, before stepping forward to meet it, reaching into the depths. His bony hand closed around a freezing wrist, and with a sense of triumph, he lifted it out of the water. The small, pale fingers he unearthed hung limply at the from the hand, looking disgustingly surreal in the eerie light. He leaned over a little and reached back into the bloodied water.

The girl's body was grey and cold as he lifted it out, water running in heavy rivulets down her body and dripping into the canal. Her hair, darkened with blood, grime and sewerage, was so long that it still reached the water, despite how high he held her above the surface. Her head lolled back, and slimy water gushed from her mouth. Her dead eyes were half-lidded, and crusted with blood from the brutal gashes that covered half her face, swollen grey and half-rotted. The mutilated, bloated body would seem irreparable to the ordinary eye, so disgusting was it to behold.

She was exactly what he needed.

* * *

There was a house on a hillside.

It was a small house. Made of split stone and fir boughs, and protected by a thatched roof of slate, it sat in the shade of a tall, dark-leafed tree with wide, sweeping limbs. In the valley below the hillside sprawled an expansive city of bright white stone, extending down to a harbour that met the ocean. Tall pillars of a cathedral and a palace jutted upward, so tall that they were almost level with the little cottage on the hill so high above. In the distance, a clocktower chimed.

Just by the front door of the house, a tree stump had been carved into a low-set stool. A woman sat on the stool, one ankle propped up on the other knee, running a sharp stone along the edge of an elongated blade with long, even strokes. She paused to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and half-heartedly wiped the sweat from her dusty face.

There was the sound of horse-hooves in the distance, and the woman looked up curiously, placing the knife down in the pile of assorted blades sitting beside the stool. A cloaked figure appeared over the edge of the slope, mounted on a palomino horse laden with leather bags. A tiny smile pulled on the woman's lips as she took another dagger from the pile – one so unnervingly elegant it would only be wielded by the most practised of rogues – and began to sharpen it with natural ease.

There was a muffled crash from within the house, and the woman sighed in exasperation, almost as though she had been somewhat expectant of it. The door flew open and a little boy came running out, closely followed by a girl that seemed only a little younger. They both squealed in childlike delight, and started running down the hill, shrieking, 'Papa! Papa!' The woman simply laughed a little, and watched from afar as they sprinted away on their short little legs.

Another little boy, a few years older than the first two, appeared in the doorway. He was holding a squalling baby and looking rather anxious about the whole affair, looking at it as though it were an alien creature.

'Mama,' he said petulantly, looking up at the woman, 'they won't stop crying.'

The woman set down the knife and got to her feet, holding out her arms. 'Bring them here, then. Your father's home, anyway.'

The boy handed over the little blonde baby all too eagerly, and went back inside, before almost immediately reappearing with another one. The woman adjusted her grip on them, sitting one on each hip, and they quietened almost immediately, deciding they would rather babble in a self-satisfied manner. The two little girls were almost identical in appearance, looking almost exactly like their mother, save for the chubby faces. One of them tugged on the woman's long hair and cooed.

The cloaked figure finally reached the house, with the other two children sitting on the horse before him. He dismounted a few feet away from the woman and turned to help the children back on the ground. He drew back his hood to reveal a handsome man with reddish-blond hair and kind eyes. He was strongly built, but had the air of being well-kept and healthy, despite the scars that decorated his muscled forearms. He looked at the woman with nothing but absolute adoration as he greeted her, relieving her of one of the babies. Then, slipping his other arm around her waist, he drew her in for a loving kiss.

It was a perfect picture. But as the two lovers stood in embrace, the shadow of a dragon passed overhead.

* * *

 **Kathryn**

The water left her lungs, and suddenly she could _breathe_.

Kathryn let out a sobbing gasp, feeling her back arch up where she lay, before proceeding to violently cough up something that tasted like blood.

If this was death, then death was overrated.

Something cold and rough grasped her shoulder, pushing her back down onto the hard surface she was lying on. She hissed in surprise, craning her head upward before realising that she couldn't open her eyes.

'Do not strain yourself.'

She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice rasped, barely audible. She swallowed thickly.

'Most of your bodily functions have temporarily been rendered inept. You will not regain your sight for a few hours.'

She felt the rim of a bottle touch her lips, and water tricked down her throat in a steady stream. She coughed again, feeling most of it spill out of her mouth and over her face.

'W . . . what . . .'

'What you are feeling now is called Resurrection Sickness,' the low voice told her. 'I am doing my best to reduce the side-effects, but you will be in marginal pain for at least an hour.'

Resurrection . . .

Her brain was hazy, and she struggled to process the word.

'. . . n – not . . . dead?'

'You were.' There was the scrape of wood against stone, followed by a clank. She felt a coarse, itchy blanket being draped over her. 'Your body was violated enough that the resurrection process was more arduous than most, especially considering how fresh the corpse was.'

She was silent for a long moment. She struggled in an attempt to remember what had happened in those last moments . . . she remembered her ribs shattering . . . the punctured lung . . . blood flooding her mouth . . .

'. . . broken . . .?'

There was a pause, before the voice answered. 'Your flesh had begun to rot. The wounds you acquired had quickly become infected, and I had to direct my attentions to mending that before I revived you. It was a rough repair, so you are still heavily scarred. I will heal the more . . . cosmetic . . . aspects in due time.'

'Don't.'

She didn't know what made her say it, but she reached out blindly and curled her tired fingers around a bony wrist. 'Leave . . . it . . .'

'Make that decision when you can see the damage for yourself,' the voice replied, sounding slightly amused. 'I know humans are very vain about their appearance.'

'Hu . . . ?' She tightened her grip on the wrist. '. . . what . . . a-are . . . you?'

'A friend,' came the reply. 'If I might earn your trust.'

'You're dead,' she whispered. She knew that was bone beneath her fingers now. She exhaled shakily. 'For . . . Forsaken.'

'An unfortunate mistake.' Sharp, bony fingers pried her grip away. 'Do not believe that I have any loyalty for Sylvanas.'

She paused, processing that statement. 'Why did you save me?'

'That is a story I will tell when you are well. Sleep, now. You need it.'

Somehow Kathryn felt a wave of tiredness brush over her at his words, and she gratefully lapsed back into sleep.

* * *

When she woke, she opened her eyes and squinted as she adjusted to the unexpected brightness that assaulted her. Unconsciously raising a hand to shield her eyes, she struggled weakly to sit up, feeling panicked as her back muscles struggled to work.

Almost immediately in response to her movement, a pair of hands grasped her shoulders and supported her enough to successfully get upright, but not enough to establish any dominance. They immediately let her go when she was steady, and allowed her to become accustomed in her own time.

She was in a dim, stone room, with iron-wrought braziers on the walls that cast an eerie, green glow. A number of disturbing, steel and chain contraptions were around the room, darkened with old, rusty blood and dirt. She herself was lying on a wooden bench, with a ragged, wool blanket tossed over her lower half. A clay jar sat at the edge of the bench near her feet.

With a rough, scraping sound, a shadowy figure drew up a wooden chair near where she lay. At her sudden attention, they paused, before slowly drawing back the hood of the dark cloak they wore.

It took all of Kathryn's willpower not to flinch at the skeletal face that appeared from beneath it, though she wasn't quite sure why she was surprised. The man's yellow eyes seemed to glow within their sockets, held in by the skin that was stitched along his cheekbones and across the bridge of his nose. His jaw, which had clearly been dislocated, was wired back on with steel bolts, and no skin remained to hide his blackened teeth, most of which were missing. His haggard, dark hair, which was miraculously still attached to his scalp, stuck up in all directions. He seemingly hadn't been an attractive individual in life, and death clearly hadn't done him any favours.

Some surprise must have shown on her face however, because the man sneered a little and reached for the jar by her feet.

'Do not judge my harsh appearance, girl,' he told her, seeming somewhat amused. 'You aren't a pretty sight yourself.' He unscrewed the lid, revealing a tar coloured paste with an acrid odour. 'Lean forward,' he ordered, picking some up on a piece of linen cloth.

It was then that Kathryn realised she was stark naked. It was with good reason, however, since her torso was completely mutilated. She let out a cry of shock as she looked down at the dark, crusted scabbing that had blossomed from the centre of her chest, the tears across her breastbone, which had been stitched together with some sort of medicinal twine, and the harsh lumps along the tendon connecting her neck and shoulder, which seemed to be held in position with an iron brace as the flesh knitted back together. The sight of it all made her want to be sick, and she didn't object as he lathered the wounds with the tarry substance, before taking more strips of linen and wrapping them securely.

'I only repaired the worst of the damage magically,' he told her as he fastened the last bandage. 'Your lungs, for example. It is enough to keep you alive, and I dared not risk further damage by rushing the healing process.'

If there was one thing that Kathryn knew, it was that resurrection wasn't something one did easily. Even the most experienced of priests dared not attempt it, should the victim merely die again, leaving the priests themselves drained of mana and on the brink of death. It was accepted that to die was to follow the intended course of nature, and meddling with that could have dire consequences.

This man was powerful. More powerful than he seemed.

'Why did you save me?' she asked carefully, looking at him with poorly concealed suspicion. She fought back a shiver in response to the freezing room, and drew the blanket around herself. 'That . . . that's powerful sorcery. You can't just . . .'

He looked at her in silence for a moment, his dead eyes calculating. 'My answer to that,' he began, 'will depend entirely upon your willingness to trust me.'

'And how do I know I can do that?'

'I lifted your dead body from the city canals,' he told her bluntly. 'I have spent the last ten days mending your broken body, restoring the rotted flesh, draining the infected blood, and cutting the maggots from your stomach. Your eyes had exploded. They took an entire night, and many costly ingredients to repair. Your heart and liver I had to replace. Your brain was almost beyond saving, and took _three days_ to return to a satisfactory state.' The flesh that remained on his brow furrowed into a somewhat annoyed expression. 'I could have chosen to leave you. I think that will help you decide.'

Kathryn's stomach turned violently at his graphic description. If only to keep from vomiting, she asked another question. 'Y . . . you mended my eyes, but my heart you replaced. Why?'

'I need your aid, Greymane. If I changed your physical attributes, there would be cause for suspicion among those you know well. Thus, your eyes _had_ to be repaired. Your heart is not visible, therefore I did not have to go to such measures.'

Kathryn had processed his response, but only one thing lodged itself in her mind.

 _Greymane?_

Why did he believe she was a Greymane? She had never been –

Oh.

 _Oh._

Her connections with Genn may have been a tip off. Then, coming to his own conclusions, perhaps he had deduced she was part of the family by marriage.

Perhaps.

She felt the safer option was to say nothing of it.

'What do you need me for?' she asked. He held up a silencing hand immediately in response to that.

'Later,' he said. 'You are still useless until fully healed, so instead, let me help you.'

'What -'

'If this is to work, you are to trust me. Completely and without question.'

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. 'Why is that?'

'It does not matter for the moment.'

She harrumphed in annoyance. 'How can I trust you if I do not know who you are? You have told me you do not follow Sylvanas – fine! But that says nothing. You are holding my life in your hands, and I _cannot_ believe you unless I know more.'

There was a beat of silence. Then two. The man rose to his feet, and began ravelling the roll of bandage he used to wrap her wounds.

'My name,' he replied, looking her squarely in the eye, 'I abandoned long ago. But . . . for the sake of convenience, you may call me Kell.'

'Kell,' she repeated, feeling relieved to have gotten a straight answer. 'Thank you.'

He did not reply, and moved to the nearest cupboard, putting the linen away.

'Sylvanas despises you, woman,' he told her after a moment. 'And now she believes you to be dead. You can, I am sure, understand why that is an advantage?'

'Yes,' Kathryn agreed. 'But why me?'

Again, he did not reply. He crossed the room to where a dirty wooden box sat on the stones. It was rather large – long and rectangular, but only about two feet tall. Its edges were tightly sealed with wax.

'This is your first task,' he told her. 'I need your aid in this project, as it is a complex series of spells I have not attempted before. In known history, nothing quite like it has truly been achieved. It will be . . . difficult, to say in the least.'

Kathryn frowned, feeling confused. 'How the hell can _I_ help?' she asked dubiously. 'I . . . I'm a rogue. I don't know _squat_ about magic.'

'Ah,' Kell said lightly, turning back to regard her with an expression of critical interest. 'This, you see, is where you are wrong.'

* * *

 **24/8/17**


	16. Long Live the King

**Oy, it's been a while. Oh well. I was slogging over the middle section of this chapter for a while, but it's finished now and I'm pretty happy with it.**

 **Shit's going down, folks.**

* * *

 _ **16 – Long Live the King**_

The pain blossoming from his chest was almost blinding; so intense that he had no true sense of awareness. He was dimly aware of a numbness spreading to his fingertips, leaving him with two contradicting senses of being – absolute agony, as opposed to the inability to feel anything at all. He drew in great, shuddering gasps, and desperately tried to _focus._ He could not bring himself to dwell on the great, black feathered arrow sticking out of his chest.

Her terrified face was hazy above him, blurring at the edges. He could feel her cradling his head, her calloused fingers trembling, _desperately begging . . ._

Her long hair fell in a curtain around them, something like a shield against the rest of the world, and a lock would brush against his nose when she spoke. Her eyes were wide and panicked, shining with tears and reflecting the bright, orange light of fire. Her mouth was moving, but he could only grasp very little of what she said. It was a horrific picture.

And yet, she looked like an angel.

'. . . promised, Liam. You promised . . . make it . . .'

A heavy lump built in his throat as the weight of her words washed over him, and he tried to reach up – a desperate attempt to touch her face.

'I know,' he choked, fighting back the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him. 'But remember -' The dry, ashy air caught in his throat, and he struggled to regain his breath. '- remember what else I told you. This morning.'

He sounded as though he were a mile under water, but her hands shook ever more violently at his words, and he knew she had understood. The expression in her eyes was absolutely wretched, as though she were trying not to believe what was happening.

'. . . never forget that . . . Never.'

She leant down and kissed him softly, and somehow that seemed to ground him for the briefest moment. He did his best to savour the feeling, though his face was growing numb, and strained to hear her as she whispered into his ear.

'. . . I love you, too . . . never stop . . . promise you that . . .'

Though he was flooded with an overwhelming coldness, something warm and loving spread through his chest at that, and a tiny, pained smile managed to tug at his lips.

 _Thank you. Thank you for giving me this._

'That's all I needed to hear,' he said in a strangled gasp. He then managed to focus on his father, whose face swam into view beside hers. In that moment, he wished more than anything that he was proud of him. Proud of him as a son. As a leader.

'We did it, father,' he whispered faintly. He fumbled blindly, and his fingers curled around a large, calloused hand he had known his whole life. A hand that had always guided him. 'We took back our city . . .'

The fogginess was getting heavier, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. He could do that. He could rest now.

'. . . we took back . . .'

The last thing he saw before everything went black was the silhouette of a dragon stretching across the sky.

* * *

 **Lorna**

The clatter of hooves on cobblestone echoed throughout the eerily silent ruins of Lordaeron. Darius held his head high as he rode through the castle courtyard, not sparing a glance at the emptiness around him. He clearly knew where he was going, and lacked the fascination Lorna felt being in such a place for the first time, as she could not draw her eyes away from the shattered statues, dead gardens, and stonework blackened with blood from long ago. She directed her horse behind him as he rode through to the main door, past an ancient bell that had fallen from above. The door to the throne room, though ajar, was ominous and unwelcoming.

The door groaned in protest when it was pushed open, revealing a dim room, lit only by a glass panel in the ceiling. Darius rode to the centre of the room, and looked about, his brow furrowed.

'Sylvanas!' he bellowed. 'Show yourself!'

Lorna looked around the throne room, feeling a sense of horror settle in her gut. It had clearly been grand once; a round room with small balconies set high in the walls – perhaps where advisors had once stood. The floor was an arrangement of beautiful stonework, inlaid with gold and marble. Though dusty, it glittered slightly in the light. And at the far end of the room, on a raised platform, was the throne. After a moment, she grimly realised that the black splatter along its back was blood.

Teranas Menethil's blood.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away.

'SYLVANAS!' Darius roared again. 'COME AND FACE ME LIKE A _MAN!'_

His voice reverberated around the empty hall, echoing endlessly like a mantra.

'I don't think she's here, Father,' Lorna muttered, looking over at him. 'We should use the sewer entrance -'

A low voice emanated from the shadows, cutting her off. 'I will not face you like a man, Crowley. Men are weak. They atone for their incompetence with brutality, and do not understand tact or reason. Your blundering in here will nary achieve what you seek, and as such . . . I will face you like a _woman_.' A figure strode from the darkness with a catlike gait, circling about the two of them whilst semi-concealed in the shadows. 'Your love for your children will be your undoing.'

Darius growled. 'Step into the light where I can see you.'

The only response he got was a soft laugh, before Sylvanas came forward, drawing a dark hood back from her face. 'You surely do not believe I am unarmed?' she asked, eyebrows quirked in amusement. 'Make one false move, and ten of my finest sharpshooters will not hesitate to put a bullet through your beastly head.'

'Where is Kathryn?' Lorna snapped, not having the patience for talk. She led her horse forward until she was level with her father. _'What have you done to her?'_

Sylvanas barely spared her a glance, her eyes still locked on Darius. 'The worgen runt?' she asked disinterestedly. 'That _thing_ has been dealt with.'

'See, I don't believe you,' Lorna replied stiffly. 'Your pet Nathanos told me the same thing, and I wouldn't take his word with a grain of salt.'

'You are stubborn, Crowley,' Sylvanas replied, levelling her gaze. 'Both of you.'

' _We won't ask again, banshee,_ ' Darius spat.

A beat of silence passed.

Then two.

'Very well,' Sylvanas said evenly, her tone betraying no expression. 'See for yourself.'

She withdrew something small and dark from inside her cloak, and tossed it to Darius. Reacting with nimble reflexes, he caught it. Immediately afterwards, he let out a strangled noise of horror, almost dropping it. Instinctively curious, Lorna looked over, and recoiled.

It was a heart. A human heart, to be precise, crusted with dried blood not even a day old.

'Would you like to see how it ended?' she asked softly, eyes narrowed in cruel amusement. Lorna's hands trembled violently, and her vision swam with red. Her knuckles whitened on the reins.

'You lie,' she breathed. ' _You lie._ '

Sylvanas did not reply. Instead she raised her hand and swept it through the air. The dust about her feet circled and swirled upward, glowing slightly green. Lorna's hand instinctively leapt to the hilt of her sword, but she couldn't squash the feeling of fascination as a scene constructed itself around her.

Two worgen were fighting. Their paws dug into the sandy ground beneath their feet, and it glittered as it shifted and swirled around, and nothing seemed quite solid.

The smaller worgen snapped at the other's windpipe, successfully catching them in a lockjaw and pulling them down atop itself. Right as this happened, the latter's claws sunk deep into the former's chest, and swirling, glittery blood spurted everywhere. When they hit the ground, the larger worgen's body was pushed to the side, and its corpse dissolved into dust, no longer part of the memory.

All that remained was the whimpering body of the smaller worgen, whose form was rippling and shifting. Kathryn was left in its place, her chest torn open, her eyes glazed over, her face bloodied. She was gasping, chest rising and falling to no avail.

It was horrific, but so . . . anticlimactic to the sort of death Lorna believed would happen to someone like Kathryn. She was the sort of person who would go out with a bang – in some sort of extravagant explosion, resulting in a quick, painless death.

But that hadn't happened.

Lorna wanted to ignore what was happening before her, refuse to believe it, but her hands shook regardless. It seemed far too real; that this emerald, glittering memory of Kathryn, formed of nothing but dust and sorcery, was a reflection of events. It couldn't be true.

Yet Lorna could not rid herself of doubt.

There, on the ground before them, Kathryn's gasps were weakening, her thrashing limbs stilling. A single tear, like a bright, white flame, slipped from the corner of her eye, mingling with the shimmery reflection of sweat and blood. The breathing slowed. Her chest sunk one final time, and she moved no more.

Lorna couldn't help the small squeak that escaped her as she realised what had happened. Then, disturbing her train of thought, Sylvanas strode through the dust-memory, scattering the particles and dissipating the spell. Kathryn's dead form vanished.

Darius was livid. 'You _bitch_ ,' he breathed, his hands trembling. His face was contorted with terrifying rage, but his eyes glistened with unshed tears. Lorna could not recall a time she had seen him so angry, even during the Battle for Gilneas.

Lorna exhaled shakily, reaching behind for her blunderbuss. Her fingers had barely brushed cool, familiar metal, when an arrow whizzed past her left ear.

A warning shot.

'Lorna,' Darius said in a low voice, ' _don't_.'

' _Let me at her_ ,' Lorna ground out. Her voice quivered, but she felt strengthened at her own words. ' _Let me kill her_.'

' _NO._ ' Darius raised his chin and took a careful step forward. 'Give us her body, and we'll leave peacefully.'

'You're just going to let her get _away_ with this?' she cried in horror. 'She _murdered Kathryn!'_

He ignored her, never breaking Sylvanas' gaze. 'Give us her body.'

Sylvanas smiled; a slow, careful stretch of blackened lips over dead blue skin; horrifying and lewd. 'If you would like to drag it up from the sewers, you are quite welcome to have it.'

Lorna's stomach lurched. 'You _didn't_.'

She did not reply. Her gaze flitted between the two of them for a long moment, before the smile dropped from her face. 'Farewell, Crowley. Your daughter's death was not the ideal circumstance here. You have my . . . condolences.' Her expression was unreadable, before she gave a short, bitter laugh. 'I liked the girl.' She turned away, slinking back into the shadows. She disappeared, but her voice reverberated around the room with her final words. 'I liked her very much.'

* * *

 **Kathryn**

'. . . now I want you to grasp the energy around you, and _draw it in_ , as such.'

Kathryn squeezed her eyes shut and tried to figure out what Kell meant by this, yet she couldn't help but feel rather idiotic about this whole matter. She floundered uselessly, before opening her eyes again and glaring at him. ' _I don't know how to do it_.'

Kell sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, as though to rid himself of a non-existent headache. ' _Concentrate_ , girl.'

'That really doesn't help.'

'Right.' He strode forward and grasped her by the wrist, pulling her into the centre of the room. 'We shall try a more basic approach. The approach most often used when teaching _children_. Sit, right here.'

Kathryn pursed her lips sullenly, before plopping down on the cobblestone floor. She let out a yelp of pain as a few stitches popped with the aggressive movement, and spent a moment regaining her bearings. Once she was comfortable, Kell leant down to inspect the damage, before deciding it wasn't pressing enough to deal with immediately. He stepped backward, and placed an empty jar on the floor before her.

'Your thoughts wander,' he told her. 'I'm giving you something physical to focus on, which may make it easier. I want you to hold the energy around the jar, and use that force to break it.'

Kathryn exhaled. 'It won't work,' she said flatly. 'I told you, but you won't listen. I'm a _rogue_. I don't have any . . . _capabilities_.'

He raised a disinterested eyebrow. 'Then tell me, _rogue_ , how do you bend the shadows to your will?'

She crossed her arms and met his gaze levelly. 'They just do that. They always have, always will.'

He returned her dry look. 'Every class is associated with magic to some degree, however minor. _I assure you,_ shadows do not ordinarily change of their own accord.'

Kathryn glared at him. 'Fine. _Fine_. I'll figure it out, you just wait.' She looked back at the jar and tried to reach out with her conscience, desperately trying to find _any_ change in the atmosphere around her.

She was faintly aware of something at the edge of her mind, and with a sense of triumph, she pushed out toward it, willing the jar to explode.

It toppled over and hit the ground with a dull _clunk_.

Kell's expression was unreadable. 'It is . . . _progress_ . . . I suppose.'

Kathryn gritted her teeth. 'Hey, at least it moved.'

'I am sure you will become a master of translocation, child,' he replied dryly. 'That, however, is useless in what I need you for.' He sat down on the ground beside her. 'You possess the capabilities, though it is obvious you were not born with them. The energy flowing through your veins was put there by a greater power, but it has clearly been locked away for some time. Therefore . . . it is untrained. Susceptible to outside infiltration.' He pressed a bony finger to Kathryn's forehead, and it took all of her willpower not to lean away. 'I will not be able to teach you what you need to know, as the time is not available to us. I can, however, use you as a power source, to heighten my own capabilities. Then we may have a chance of success.'

Kathryn didn't like the sound of that one bit.

'What am I, then?' she asked sharply. 'Some sort of stepping-stone?'

'In a sense, yes.'

A beat of silence passed. Then two. Kathryn stood up, and crossed the room to the dirty wooden box. 'Alright, fine. But you're going to tell me what's in here.' To make her point, she kicked it with the side of her foot.

He rose quickly and moved to her side. 'Whatever you do, _do not_ dislodge that lid. It is tightly sealed, and its contents have been well preserved. I need it to remain untainted if I am to fully restore it.'

Kathryn spread her hands with a deadpan expression. 'Yeah, but _what is it?_ '

'A specimen,' he replied crisply, 'that you may find of interest. I assure you, that is all you need to know at the present. Your mind must be blank for this procedure.'

'You actually think I can _clear my mind_ after you tell me that?'

'It is preferable to the alternative.'

She scowled at him. 'Damn warlock.'

He ignored her, picking up a jar of dusty black pigment and dipping his finger in it. 'Hold still.'

Kathryn didn't speak as he traced several shapes and symbols on her face, though she was buzzing with questions. And, not to mention, she still didn't _quite_ trust him, so she wasn't sure why she was letting him do this. She told herself it was mere curiosity, and left it at that.

'I am going to put your mind to sleep,' he told her. 'It will not cause damage, and you will remain fully conscious, however you will not be aware of what is happening around you. This way I can draw on your power to its fullest extent, without you needing to contribute. Considering your mediocre capabilities, it would be ideal if you _didn't_ help. Understood?'

Kathryn nodded mutely.

'Good.'

With one clean stroke, he traced something on Kathryn's temple, and everything seemed to fall out of focus. She felt blissfully numb – serene, even – and nothing seemed to matter. Life itself seemed a surreal concept, she was nothing but stardust, and she didn't know her own name.

She simply existed, and felt peace for the first time she could recall.

* * *

When Kathryn regained her senses, she was propped up against one of the slimy, damp walls, and the wooden box had been dragged into the centre of the room. Kell was knelt beside it, burning runes on its surface with a small cedarwood wand. Each rune glowed faintly after it was drawn, before smouldering as it faded to the colour of charcoal.

'You're awake,' he noted, without sparing her a glance. 'Good. Come here, and bring that knife.'

Kathryn looked to her left, where an ornate silver knife sat on a nearby table. When she brought it to him, Kell touched the blade to the wand for a minute, before handing it back to her.

'Use this to cut through the wax.'

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. 'It's a _knife_.'

'It's a _hot_ knife.'

'Oh.'

Sure enough, when Kathryn brought the knife to the wax-sealed lid, it stuck into it like soft butter, and little beads dripped to the ground.

'Be careful,' Kell warned.

'What _of?_ '

'You will see.'

Not feeling comforted by that, Kathryn grudgingly spent the next half hour prying away the lid. When she finally chipped off the last piece of wax, she looked at Kell and asked, 'How long was I asleep?'

'Two days.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'But . . . I'm not hungry. Why?'

'You're hungry,' he assured her. 'You just haven't noticed it.'

Damn this man and his half-assed answers.

'Can I pull the lid off?'

'If you'd like,' he replied, tracing one final rune onto the centre of the box. 'I have done all I can for the present moment.'

Kathryn scanned the room, looking for something suitable. Returning with a meat cleaver (what it was used for in this vile city, she didn't want to know), she dug the sharp edge into the gap, and used all her body weight to dislodge it.

The lid popped up with a creak, and a cloud of dirt, dust and . . . _ash_ . . . burst from it. Coughing, and fanning it away, she tossed the cleaver aside, before digging her fingers under the lid and lifting it aside. She immediately proceeded to drop it on her foot, and hissing profanities, turned back to the box.

She couldn't hold back the scream of horror that escaped her.

 _It couldn't be.  
_

 _No._

 _Not . . ._

Smooth as marble, and in a flawless state of preservation – Kell's magic, no doubt . . .

She wanted to vomit.

She needed to _get out_.

After a long moment of horrified revulsion, she finally managed to tear her eyes away from Liam Greymane's cold, beautiful face.

'What have you _done?_ '

* * *

 **24/10/17**


End file.
